


Now Kiss

by Vellenox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Christmas, College AU, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Sarcasm, Sass, Vampires, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 112,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vellenox/pseuds/Vellenox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek should be together, and in fact they would be if the two of them would stop it with their denial and just get on with it already. Lydia knows this. She sees the way the two of them react to each other - all bright and teasing, like they're more than content to just be within each other's presence, and that's enough to make them happy. But there's more to it than that, a longing gaze and clenched fists, like they want to reach out and touch but for some (stupid) reason they don't think they can. So Lydia's gonna ensure that her beloved best friend opens up his eyes and realizes that he can be even happier, if he'd just let himself. Same goes with the Alpha. She'd see it happen before they graduated from Berkeley, and that was just a fact.</p><p>(Pre-Season 3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrynaS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynaS/gifts).



> This lovely prompt was given to me by BrynaS basically outlining an AU where Stiles and Lydia are best friends, and Lydia attempts to get Stiles and Derek together. I had a lot of room to add to the story, so I hope it all turns out well enough that she likes it :)
> 
> This entire work was Beta'd by laynacakes!!

There was a reason Stiles was in the middle of Macy’s with a pile of women’s clothing balancing precariously in his hands. If he hadn’t lost his dignity somewhere within the racks and racks of dresses and skirts and bras, he would be remembering that reason right now instead of questioning why he’d let his miserable self be dragged on this expedition.

“You don’t think this one makes me look too chesty, do you?” Lydia asked as she took a step out of the dressing room, for maybe the seventh time in the past _twenty minutes_ he’d been standing there awkwardly. He saw the looks he was getting from the employees and the customers, and the boyfriends of the customers. It ranged from amusement, to curious glances, and lastly to sympathetic bro-nods that ensured him he was not the only one suffering through this emasculating humiliation.

“I don’t know, were you going for coconuts or melons?” Stiles struggled to see over the mountain of clothing, but the low cut of the shirt Lydia was trying on wouldn’t be missed even in the dark. A turtle could be suckling a monkey, but if Lydia was standing next to them there was no doubt all eyes would be on her, and her glorious, wonderful cleavage.

She pursed her lips, clearly not amused. “Well I definitely wasn’t hoping that my breasts looked relatable to fruit.” She replied tartly, glaring a withering look in Stiles’s general direction. When she finally looked back to examine herself in the mirror, Stiles let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and rolled his eyes.

“You should be flattered, most fruit are juicy and delicious.” He poked his head around the mass of clothing and gave her a proper once over. “Hot damn girl, you’re lookin’ _fine_.” The dress she was trying on was a vibrant shade of red, maybe a little too stark, but it did wonders for her already smokin’ figure. She was no pear, Stiles would be the first to commend to that. Besides, it fit her A-Type personality. “What’s the special occasion anyways? Jackson bringing you to one of his Student Mixers?”

Lydia shrugged her reply, still staring into the mirror with a twist in her lips. She didn’t look completely won over, like there was still something missing, something that would deem the dress acceptable enough to be worn in public. “Probably,” she paused, looked considering, “but that’s not what this would be for.” She went silent again for a moment, looking into the eyes of her own reflection. Stiles wasn’t sure what she saw there, but to him she looked like she was searching for something within herself. “Jackson’s going to propose.”

Stiles was waiting for the punch line. The camera crew to reveal themselves and announce he’d just been _Punk’d_. They’d all have a laugh about it, re-watch the part where they could visibly see Stiles’s jaw dropping open, and the sheer surprise on his face. He knew he’d look like a dork, mouth hanging wide, his eyes wearing unmasked confusion and disbelief. But the reveal never came, and Lydia stood there watching him restart his brain.

When he could finally piece a couple words together he finally squeaked out a, “ _Say what_?”

Lydia turned to face him, scrutinizing his face and apparently not seeing anything she liked. “Jackson. Is. Going. To. Propose.” She stated, enunciating each word clearly and precisely.

Stiles remained speechless.

A dressing room attendant paused midstride, casting a nervous glance in their direction. “Is everything okay here?” Stiles didn’t hear her over the pounding of his heart, but Lydia smiled and ushered the woman away with words of assurances that there weren’t any problems.

“Stiles,” Lydia snapped her fingers, trying to break him out of his temporary shock. He shook his head, trying to fix the jumbled thoughts that didn't seem to fit together. Jackson. Lydia. Engaged. Married. Moving in together. Having little werewolf pups. Holy shit.

He dropped the clothing and thrust his fists up in the air, a triumphant _whoop_ sounding before he scooped Lydia up and twirled her around. “Oh my _god_ Lydia! That’s freaking awesome! That’s amazing!” He paused, put her down and rested his hands on her shoulders. He looked into her eyes. “You want this right? He makes you happy? He’s good to you?” He asked seriously and a slow smile spread on her lips. She rested her hands on his, patting them gently.

“Of course Stiles, do you think I’d let him be anything less than good?” She gave his hands a squeeze and he let them drop away from her.

“Yeah, but he can sometimes be an asshole, y’know?” He didn’t want to be smiling so damn hard that his cheeks were hurting, but his lips had a mind of their own, and the happiness growing inside of him, warming him, was about to explode. There would be chunks of Stiles’s happiness everywhere, and that just wasn’t publically decent.

Lydia gave him a playful punch to the arm, which didn’t hurt as much as Stiles thought she might’ve wanted it to. “All guys are assholes, _asshole_. But I love him. I really, really do. And I want you to be happy for us. I want the whole pack to be okay with this.” She looked nervous as soon as she mentioned the pack, but Stiles just scoffed, shaking his head.

“Was I being too discreet about how absolutely _thrilled_ I am that Jackson’s finally getting his shit together? How many years has it been now? Because it feels like ten. Ten years!” Stiles exclaimed, and over-exaggerated. It had only been five years since Lydia and Jackson started seeing each other in high school, four years since the whole werewolf thing almost tore them apart (physically and emotionally), and three years since they got back together. Been inseparable ever since. Both had been lucky enough to gain acceptance into Berkeley, Lydia building her way up to her Doctorate in Biochemistry and Jackson working on his bachelor’s degree for Business.

It was no question why either of them had gotten in, Lydia for her brilliant mind and her outstanding high school performance (even with the supernatural world of werewolves constantly causing trouble she still maintained a 4.6 GPA; the SATs must’ve been like child’s play to her) and Jackson for his never-ending, personal fountain of eternal wealth. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Jackson’s parents had something to do with his early acceptance.

But Stiles wasn’t bitter. Not at all. Because he’d gotten in to Berkeley too. At first he wasn’t sure he’d even go, not even if it _was_ his top choice. He didn’t want to leave his dad alone, and there was also the worrisome matter of paying for tuition and residence and _food_. Stiles still needed to eat. And replace old, worn-out clothes. And get his hair cut, because even though he’d grown it out a bit he didn’t need to look like a mop. And then there was all the other crap like bills and expenses grown-ups had to deal with, and he was an adult now so he had all these new, overwhelming responsibilities.

But his father was there for him, like he’d always been and always would be. Stiles had even scored an academic scholarship for his _humble_ 4.2 GPA. And his mother’s life insurance went a long way in helping him not hit panic attack mode. So he’d accepted his spot in Berkeley’s Anthropology department to learn in depth about Folklore, and he was studying his ass off; surviving on coffee and Kraft Dinner, and the occasional holiday visits back home in Beacon Hills where his father and Melissa would stuff him full of home-cooked meals until all he could do was sleep for three days and wait for the bloating to wear off.

It was working for him. Despite missing home and stressing about his future and keeping up in all his classes. He wasn’t there alone.

The three of them were in it together, though they all were housing in different residences respective of their program’s buildings. Lydia was staying in the Women in Science and Engineering’s themed housing, in the Foothill building, whereas both Jackson and Stiles had opted to reside in separate student apartments.

No matter how close the pack had gotten over the years, there was no way in hell Stiles was ever going to be Jackson’s roommate. Never. Not even if Jackson offered to pay him five billion dollars. _Never ever_. _Nope_. That was Lydia’s job now. Or at least soon.

“Okay, wait. You said he’s _going_ to propose. He hasn’t yet? How do you know it’s gonna happen?” Stiles asked, wondering if Jackson had been an oaf and left the ring lying around where Lydia could stumble upon it. He wasn’t much for romance usually, but he was a little old-fashioned. Surprises were the best, no matter what anyone said about it, and a surprise engagement was the only way to do a proposal.

Or maybe he had just let Lydia force him into watching too many romantic comedies with her and now he’d been indoctrinated with all of these romantic, gooey ideals. _Great_. He didn’t need his masculinity anyways.

 _Fuck_.

Lydia gave him her best annoyed look before crossing her arms and rolling her eyes at him. “There have been way too many signs for everything to be a coincidence.” Stiles opened his mouth to protest but she shot him a glare that snapped his jaw shut so quickly his teeth clicked together audibly. “You know what your dad always says: one’s an incident, two’s a coincidence…” Lydia held up one finger at a time.

“… Three’s a pattern, yeah, yeah. I know.” He finished for her, scratching his chin and thinking it over. “So what _signs_ have there been? You catch him checking out rings or something? Find a receipt from Tiffany’s in his coat pocket?”

“It started about a month ago, when he asked me to book off this specific Friday from work.” She started and looked at Stiles expectantly, like he was supposed to understand or comment on that little fact. He just frowned, still a little confused, and she sighed. “Jackson asked me _a month ago_ to book off work in advance so he can take me to dinner because, and I quote, ‘you just mean a lot to me babe, and I want to show you just how much I love you by treating you to a nice dinner.’”

“Yeah, that is weird, Jackson showing sentiment.” Stiles said, knowing he’d receive another punch for his efforts at amusing himself. “Ouch! Okay, okay. It’s a little odd that he planned that far ahead. Usually he only does that for football games and UFC matches.” She gave him a dry look, but she didn’t argue.

“He’s also been acting strange. Anxious. I called Derek and asked if his behaviours could be related to the next full moon but he assured me that this far into being a werewolf, Jackson should be completely in control of his new nature.” Lydia explained, inspecting her nails as if she were bored by the idea of lycanthropy and how it affected her boyfriend. Stiles knew better though. Knew the inner geek within her was dying to learn everything there was to know about werewolves and everything else, like her immunity and Deaton’s Shamanism.

“And you listened to him? The same guy, who at one point in time, literally had no idea what he was doing and decided to turn _teenagers_ into werewolves?” Stiles didn’t actually blame Derek for not knowing how to handle his situation; the guy probably did the best that he could with what he had, and Stiles truly respected that. In the four years that they’d known each other, Stiles had watched Derek learn and grow, and really be there for their pack. There wasn’t a better Alpha suited for the job of handling their pack of misfits. Derek was perfect.

Lydia scoffed, arching an eyebrow at Stiles. “Oh sweetie, don’t even try to pretend you don’t have the hots for Derek. If he told you to get down on your knees you’d listen without question.” She smirked at the blush spreading throughout Stiles’s cheeks and neck.

“Okay, wow, inappropriate for Macy’s. I think grandma over there just gave you the Stink Eye.” Maybe _grandma_ was a little bit harsh, but the woman looked like she was about to shit out a watermelon, glaring at them with disgust. Lydia giggled, an innocent look on her face.

“Anyways, there’ve been other signs too. Like on Saturday night when we were cuddling on his bed watching The Notebook, holding hands. His fingers kept playing with my ring finger, like he was fixated on it but didn’t know he was doing it. He even mentioned that he was planning on telling his parents that when he was done at Berkeley he’d be moving out of their house and hopefully closer to Emeryville.” Again she waited expectantly for Stiles to understand what exactly that all meant.

“What’s in Emeryville?” He asked, and she managed not to look at him like he was an idiot.

“The Sandia National Laboratories. The place where I’m hoping I’ll be able to put my doctorate to good use.” And, okay, that was pretty indicative of Jackson’s intentions. But it was still all very circumstantial. Stiles needed hard proof, otherwise he’d only believe it when he saw a ring on Lydia’s finger.

“Alright, I admit that it all seems suggestive, but I’m gonna need some actual, visual proof.” He said and tried to avoid the look of annoyance aimed at him.

He watched as Lydia abruptly turned and re-entered the dressing room, closing the door behind her as she went. Stiles stood there, not sure how to interpret that.

“Sir, if she’s not going to try those on I’d appreciate if you picked them up and put them back where they belong, or at least leave them with an attendant. Our customers don’t exactly shop here for clothes that have been left lying on the dirty floor.” The older, watermelon shitting woman from before grated out, wearing a look of irritation and general disgust of the world as she approached him. She wore a nametag that said _Supervisor_ with the Macy’s logo on it that Stiles hadn’t noticed before.

Shit.

Stiles quickly apologized and crouched down to gather up the clothing he’d forgotten he’d dropped in his haste to swing Lydia around in celebration. “Maybe if you actually did your job the floor wouldn’t be so _dirty_ and we wouldn’t have a problem now would we?” He mumbled angrily under his breath. He hadn’t meant for the lady to hear him, but by the way she sneered at him and stomped away, it was a pretty good indicator that he hadn’t been as quiet as he’d thought.

When he sorted the clothes out and stood back up there was suddenly a ring box thrust in his face. “This was in his sock drawer. Proof enough for you Stilinski?” Stiles quickly walked over to the attendant and thrust the pile of clothing into her hands. He left the girl looking confused and overwhelmed and marched back over to Lydia to snatch the box out of her hand.

Tentatively he lifted the lid and peered inside and almost gasped in utter awe of what he saw. The ring was beautiful and intricate and dazzling and fucking _covered_ in diamonds. The band itself was white gold, and there were a few smaller diamonds leading up to the biggest one of all, outlining it. A pink diamond, cut square.

For once Stiles applauded Jackson’s eerily good taste.

“Holy shit this must’ve cost him a fortune!” Stiles would never be able to afford anything half as nice as the ring, and if he did have enough money for something like that he’d put it towards a house or something. He knew for a fact it was worth more than his jeep. But he would never put a price on his baby. She was priceless and perfect and he told himself that every time she broke down and left him stranded in the middle of nowhere. Stiles looked up from the ring to a very smug looking Lydia. “Wait, if he hasn’t proposed yet why do you have it?”

She scooped it out of his hands and began admiring it herself. “I wanted to show you.” She smiled and looked up at him, this look of complete happiness in her eyes. It made Stiles’s heart sputter, because he was so ridiculously thrilled to see her like this. She was his best friend. He loved her, though not in the same way he had before. He had come to terms with the fact that all they were ever going to be was friends, and she surprised him by letting them become so much more than that. She was like the little sister he never had, and she definitely treated him like her brother.

Somehow Stiles felt like this was the way it was always meant to be, and he was good with it. So, if Jackson was going to propose, and if Lydia really loved Jackson, then Stiles couldn’t be happier for them. And, considering since becoming a part of the pack and getting out of Beacon Hills allowed Jackson to mature a little, Stiles had actually grown to tolerate Jackson. Maybe even _like him a little_. But that was a secret Stiles would take to the grave and deny, deny, deny until the day he died.

Stiles reached out and grabbed Lydia’s hands in his. “You have no idea how happy I am for you.” She beamed back at him.

“Thank you.” She replied, her voice choking up a bit. She looked almost on the verge of tears, which immediately caused Stiles’s throat to clench and heart to swell with emotion. He pulled her into a tight hug and held onto her until finally she pulled away and smoothed the crinkles in the dress that the embrace had caused. “How do you feel about amaranth?” She asked and he cocked an eyebrow at the question.

“Why?” He asked, unsure if the answer was going to cause him pain. Lydia smiled, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

She patted him on the shoulder. “My maid of honour has to look good in the wedding colours I choose for him, right?” She smirked, and before he could even process that she turned on her heel and walked back into the dressing room. “I better start trying on some more of these dresses before they kick us out.” She called over her shoulder.

A slow smile spread over Stiles’s lips.

Lydia wanted him to be her maid of honour, by her side when she took her vows. “As long as I don’t have to wear a dress. That’s where I draw the line.” He shot back once he finally managed to stop smiling so hard and gained access to his mouth again.

She opened the door, already in another dress. “I don’t know Stiles, I think Derek wouldn’t mind seeing a little leg action from you.” She winked at him and positioned herself in front of the mirror. Stiles laughed out loud at that, picturing himself in a dress and Derek looking like he’d just been traumatized for life.

“Hey, who said anything about _leg action_? I am a modest, model of purity. The only dress I’ll ever wear will be no shorter than my ankles, thank you very much.” She rolled her eyes at him and then smoothed out the crinkles in her dress. This one was a lot more elegant than the last; a deep navy blue in colour and instead of strapless like the last one she tried on, it draped over one shoulder.

When she looked at herself in the mirror she brightened. Stiles saw the caution in her eyes melt away, and before she said it he already knew. This was the dress she was going to get proposed to in.

Stiles hoped the actual wedding dress shopping would be as easy as this. Although, to say that this shopping excursion had been _easy_ , well, Stiles was certain he’d lost his mind right around the time Lydia had tried on dress number fifteen. They’d been shopping for a few hours now, trying on dress after dress. He was pretty amazed she’d kept the reason from him for so long, especially considering how exciting the news was. She probably enjoyed knowing something no one else knew.

“This is the one.” She smiled, biting her lower lip. Stiles could see the happiness radiating off of her, and he was being affected by it. He smiled broadly. “Now all we have to do is find the perfect pair of heels.” She stated and marched back into the dressing room so she could get redressed and purchase the dress. Stiles sighed inwardly and the smile instantly fell from his face. He pulled out his phone, ignored the text message alerts, and looked at the time. It was almost four o’clock, and they’d gotten to the shopping outlet at _noon_.

He still had to study for his Finals and pack his bags for the long trip back to Beacon Hills.

“I have to be home by at least nine Lydia.” Stiles reminded her, though a part of his sternness dissolved when it went up against Lydia’s withering glare as she exited the change room. “I’m serious! I have Finals to cram for!” Stiles had confidence in his ability to pass the test, especially if he remembered to take his Adderall beforehand. On top of that, his last Final was in a few days, and then he was free, and it was in his Arctic Folklore and Mythology in Nordic Land course. He’d called up Deaton to help him out with his term paper, putting in some extra info about the differences between the presence of Shamanism in the Sami culture versus the Greenlanders. It was really interesting stuff, at least to Stiles. He absorbed everything like a sponge, eager to learn more.

So really the test was going to be a walk in the park, but it never hurt to be entirely sure that you’re prepared for anything.

“Whatever, the stores close then anyways.” She walked passed him and went directly to the check-out lineup, which was completely empty. Thank all the gods for small mercies. “You’re not actually stressing about your Final, are you?” She asked as she put the dress on the counter and smiled at the cashier. The young woman smiled back, though she eyed the two of them wearily.

“Well, yeah. This is sort of important stuff, Lydia. Grades and all that jazz.” Lydia just rolled her eyes at him.

“You’re smart, I have faith in your ability to keep up in your courses. You have to, at least long enough to stick around with me here for a couple more years so we can both finish our Masters.” She said, like he had no choice in the matter. Which he really, really didn’t.

“The total’s gonna be two hundred and ninety five dollars. Will that be cash, debit, or credit?” The cashier prompted and Lydia reached into her purse.

“Debit.” She pulled out her wallet and swiped her card, going through the whole boring process of waiting for the machine to validate her payment. When they were done and the cashier had wished them a good day, they exited the Macy’s and headed for Stiles’s jeep. “Let’s start with Nine West, we passed an outlet just up the road on Marina Boulevard.” She pointed in a vague direction, though Stiles recognized it was back the way that they’d driven, closer to the University. They’d find their way back, slowly but surely.  “Have you heard from Derek lately?” She asked as she hopped into the passenger side seat.

That reminded Stiles of the texted messages on his phone. He did his seat belt up and pulled out his phone to see that there were a total of three messages waiting for him. One was from Scott, a celebratory text letting him know that he was done with all of his course Finals and would be in Beacon Hills within the next hour. The second one was from his dad, wishing him luck on his last Final and letting him know that Melissa and him were looking forward to having their boys home for the holidays.

The last text was from Derek, which actually wasn’t unusual. He liked to check in every now and then; it was all apart of his new and improved approach to Alpha-ing.

**_Derek:_ **

**Are you finished packing yet?**

Since the pack had worked out its shit and was now an actual _pack_ , Derek had turned out to be not so bad of a guy. Stiles understood Derek a lot more, trusted him as the Alpha. They’d been through a lot of life threatening situations, and even though Stiles never thought it was possible, they’d actually become _friends_. Everyone in the pack was on good terms with each other, even including Allison and Derek.

He killed her mother, she shot him a bunch of times with her arrows, and then they talked it out in private and came out respecting each other. It brought a new sense of peace to the pack, considering Scott loved Allison and up until that point was divided between his pack and his heart. Everything just sort of fell together after that, like some sort of balance was given.

The pack wasn’t just _like_ a family to them, it _was_ a family. They stuck together through everything. They graduated high school, applied to colleges, got accepted (or in some not so great instances, rejected) from colleges, and now they were all off on their own. They were all in their second year of college and university, and they’d come up with a system that worked and kept them all connected even if they weren’t living in the same area code as each other.

Texting and Skype did wonders; especially group chat. The best was coming home to Beacon Hills though. Even though Stiles wished they could stay together - go to the same school, get jobs in the same town - he also knew that they all deserved to follow their hearts and dreams. Lydia was brilliant, she deserved to get into the Sandia Laboratories and grace the world with her genius. The pack wouldn't hold her back from it; they'd encourage it.

**_Stiles:_ **

**Not yet. Out shopping with Lyds.**

Stiles replied to Derek before realizing Lydia was watching him. “What’s up?” He asked and slipped the phone back in his pocket. It was in vain though, because just as he did it began vibrating to signal another incoming text.

“You didn’t answer my question.” She replied impatiently. Stiles raised an eyebrow, confused by her touchiness on the subject of Derek. He looked down at his screen to see Derek had already replied. Dude must’ve been watching his phone or something.

“Oh, uh,” Stiles trailed off but started reading the text message instead.

**_Derek:_ **

**Cute. Does she know that money runs out when you’re spending it all the time?**

Stiles smirked, typing out a response already.

**_Stiles:_ **

**How would you know? Mr. Camaro.**

“Yeah, we’re texting right now. What’s up?” Stiles asked, finally focusing his attention on the very impatient, arm-crossed Lydia.

“Oh nothing, just wondering if you knew about his latest romantic exploits. Or, failed exploits actually.” She grimaced, leaning her hand against her forehead. Stiles frowned.

“What? He already broke up with that Lana chick?” Stiles hadn’t even gotten a chance to meet her. According to Allison she was a pretty decent girl, and quite snarky too, but a little bit on the air-headed side. Which was okay. But he’d teased Derek a lot about it, just to get under the other man’s skin.

Lydia let out a scoff, “Yeah, about a week ago. She didn’t know the difference between writing ‘ _your’_ and ‘ _you’re_ ’, and apparently Derek just snapped.” Stiles laughed out loud at that; he never knew Derek was a secret grammar Nazi. Lydia was laughing too, and maybe they should’ve felt a little bad, knowing how temperamental Derek was and how his anger was probably one of the scariest forces Stiles had ever seen, but it was also sort of hilarious.

“Oh man, that’s brutal!” Stiles chuckled, starting his jeep. Lydia giggled for a bit longer, nodding enthusiastically.

“I know, I bet she probably said _libary_ instead of lib _r_ ary.” Stiles let out another chuckle and Lydia smiled.

When he caught his breath he just shook his head. “Holy shit man, we’re such snobs.” He pulled out of the parking space and headed towards the exit. She made no objection, because she knew how tight-knit their group was now. Any new people were harshly judged and discriminated against, but not because they thought they were better than everyone else. It wasn’t like being in a high school clique, or anything as remotely immature as that.

It was just that they didn’t trust outsiders easily. They’d spent years together, standing beside each other during all the shitty times. And they didn’t want to watch their pack mates get hurt in any way, including in matters of the heart. Especially for Derek. When he opened up about what Kate had done to his family, Stiles had seen red. Kate was just lucky she was already dead; otherwise she would’ve had a _much_ slower death than the one Peter had delivered to her.

Stiles’s hands tightened on the wheel. Even thinking about her sent an unwelcome shiver of anger through his spine. He shook his head, regained control over his thoughts, and focused on the road until they hit the outlet and Lydia dragged him inside. If the dress shopping was any indication of how this was going to turn out, Stiles was almost positive they probably weren’t going to get out of there until well past dinner time. Which meant the small hunger that was already beginning to growl in the pit of Stiles’s stomach would be allowed to grow until the pain drove Stiles to shift into really-hungry-aggravated-and-not-fucking-happy Stiles.

And no one wanted that.

When Lydia found the first pair she adored and tried them on, Stiles pulled out his phone to see Derek had replied again.

**_Derek:_ **

**I have a job and I don’t have to pay student fees.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Right, you just spend all your money on gym memberships and wife beaters to show off all your angst and muscle.**

**_Derek:_ **

**You’re hilarious Stiles.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Your sarcasm hurts me.**

Stiles smirked and quickly sent another text.

**_Stiles:_ **

**I mean **you’re.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Ur gf wuz so smart**

**_Derek:_ **

**I swear to god Stiles.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Wut do u sware 2 god 4 Derek?**

**_Derek:_ **

**I’m never telling Allison anything ever again.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**im sure shed be <3 broken**

**_Derek:_ **

**I’m going to break you in a second.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**What, with your teeth? Heard that threat before. I’m over it.**

“What do you think about these ones?” Lydia asked, and Stiles looked up from his phone. He spared a glance down to her feet and shrugged.

“They’re nice.” He smiled hopefully, like that’s all it would take to get her to make her decision. Her lips were twisted in a frown though.

“Nice isn’t _good_.” She stood up and gave them a walk before sitting down and taking them off. “I don’t like them. What else is there?” She asked the attendant that had appeared while Stiles had been texting Derek. His mind began to wander while Lydia scoured through the women’s selection of high heels.

At the end of it all she _finally_ decided on a black strappy pair that, according to Lydia, went really well with her dress. As much as Stiles _loved_ dresses and shoes (that was _sarcasm_ ) they spent almost two hours in Nine West. Stiles was ready to go home and eat. The thrilling news of Lydia’s soon-to-be engagement was only exciting enough to keep Stiles happy for an hour. And then the hunger hit. And then Stiles was slowly devolving into a Neanderthal, barely shrugging and grunting when Lydia asked for his opinion.

She gave him an unsympathetic look and continued on her merry quest, but Stiles noticed she spent a little less time contemplating the shoes before making her final decisions.

When they were back on the road, headed towards the nearest fast food joint they could find, Stiles felt better. They hit a drive through and Stiles stuffed his face with burger and bacon and cheese and it was so good Stiles maybe made some questionable noises but Lydia didn’t comment. She just raised an eyebrow and went back to playing on her phone and singing to the blasting _Adele_ that Stiles had let her crank up, even though he wasn’t sure if his baby’s speakers could handle it.

They were driving along, Stiles finally in a peaceful, post-food frenzy haze, when he saw the sign.

“Wait a second, _this_ is Emeryville?” He asked, looking around them. That couldn’t be right. He leaned over and turned down the music.

“And?” Lydia said, keeping her eyes on her phone. Her voice was a little tight.

“This’s almost two and a half hours away from Beacon Hills, Lydia.” Emeryville was apparently only ten minutes away from Berkeley. But Berkeley wasn’t exactly walking distance from Beacon Hills. How hadn’t he put two and two together before?

She sighed. “Yes. And your point has yet to be made.” Stiles was certain she knew exactly what he was trying to get at. She was stubborn though, so he was going to just come right out and say it.

“That’s two hours away from the pack. Two hours away from me.” He paused, taking in a deep breath. “How am I going to show up at your house at three in the morning to vent about all of my frustrations and tell you all about the last dude who just dumped me?” It had become a habit for them really, to text or call each other at all hours of the night crying or venting, or both. On more than one occasion The Notebook was rented and Reese’s Pieces ice cream was bought, and Stiles had driven over to Lydia’s res so they could indulge themselves, making it so Stiles could feel better about his latest break up.

They’d gotten so close that he had opened up to her about practically everything, including his mom. And that was a big deal. It was an even bigger deal when she told him _it wasn’t his fault_. That there was nothing he could’ve done to save her. And that it was _okay_. Because if his mother were still alive she’d be so proud of him, and Lydia would’ve loved to meet the woman who named her son _Genim_ , and was a part of why that little boy had grown up to be the best person Lydia had ever come to know and love.

Lydia was always there for him when he needed her, but how could she still be with two hundred and eight kilometers separating them?

“It won’t be forever Stiles. Besides, you’ll be with the pack by then, you won’t miss me.” She flipped her hair over her shoulder, but wouldn’t meet Stiles’s gaze.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’ll miss you! You’re the only one who tolerates me going off on tangents and having arguments with myself!” That wasn’t strictly true, but she _was_ the only one that could handle the random information that Stiles burst with when he got to be too hyper or forgot to take his Adderall. The only other one was Derek, but Stiles was fairly certain it was only because Derek tuned Stiles out when that happened.

Lydia scoffed in irritation. “Stop being such a child Stiles.” He wasn’t exactly _pouting_ but-… okay, fine. He was totally pouting. Lower lip stuck out and everything.

“I’m not! Everyone will miss you, and Jackson!” Stiles said, though he threw in Jackson as an afterthought. The truth was, he would miss Jackson, but he’d miss Lydia even more.

“Can we please just focus on getting through this week and making it to Friday?” She asked, slipping on her sunglasses and resting her hand on her forehead, which was her signal that she would ignore anything more Stiles tried to say on the subject. Since Stiles wasn’t in the mood to argue with her he decided he’d remain silent until she was ready to talk. Which meant that the rest of the drive home was spent listening to the radio.

When Stiles pulled up to drop her off at her residence she grabbed her bags before pausing and turning to give him an apologetic look. “Thanks for today Stiles. I promise we’ll talk more when things are a little clearer.” She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the cheek before jumping out of the jeep. “Text me tomorrow!” She called over her shoulder and Stiles watched her walk away, her head held high.

He got back to his apartment in record time and immediately turned his focus on his studies. He was halfway done going through his second unit’s material when Skype alerted him to an incoming call.

He hit the answer button without even looking to see who it was. He kept his eyes trained on his notes and waited for whoever it was to say hello.

“Stiles, why do you always have something in your mouth?” At the sound of Derek’s voice Stiles almost choked on the lid of his highlighter that had somehow found its way in between Stiles’s lips. “Please don’t kill yourself choking on it, that’d be hard to explain to your father. Though, I’m sure he wouldn’t be surprised.” Stiles blushed.

“Yeah,” Stiles said, spitting the lid out on his bed, “Death by highlighter lid. I’d get my very own episode on _1,000 Ways to Die_.” He looked up at the screen to see Derek was sitting at his desk back home. _Literally Stiles’s desk in his father’s house_. _What the hell?_ “What on Earth are you doing in my old bedroom?” Derek looked around for a minute, a slow smirk spreading across his lips.

He reached for something off screen and Stiles’s heart fluctuated in his chest. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a big collection of dolls before.” He presented to Stiles the little Yoda Stiles kept on his desk back home. And there was more where that came from, hidden away in Stiles’s closet. And apparently Derek had seen _those_ too.

What the fuck had Derek been doing in Stiles’s _closet_?

“They’re _action figures_ Derek. Gonna be worth a fortune one day.” The others were packed away in their original boxes, mint condition. Their worth went up every day they _stayed_ that way. “You didn’t answer my question! Why are you in my bedroom?”

Derek set the Yoda down and leaned back into Stiles’s office chair, which Stiles suddenly missed because the desk chair he had here was wooden and hard and all he could afford on a student’s budget. “Your dad and Melissa invited me over for dinner. Scott and Allison are here too.” Then Derek leaned in closer, resting his arms on the desk. “Scott wanted to take a _nap_ in here with _Allison_. So it was either them or me occupying the room. I think you owe me.” Derek raised a heavy eyebrow at Stiles as Stiles buried his face into his bed and groaned.

“No. No way. Scott wouldn’t have had sex in my bed. No matter how horny he was. It’s the bro code. He would not betray me like that.” Derek laughed at that and Stiles wanted to throw his pillow at him. Unfortunately Derek was still two hours away and safe behind the computer screen.

“I don’t know, he kept complaining about how long the drive back was, and how much he missed Allison. Things could’ve gotten messy.” Derek was grinning at Stiles’s horror.

“He has his own bedroom now, doesn’t he?” Stiles cried, pleading for it to be true. He didn’t need Scott shacking up in his _childhood bedroom_ just because the dude slept in it when he sometimes went home to visit their parents. Stiles cringed at the thought of Scott taking advantage of his bed all those times before when he went home…

 _Ugh_.

Derek rubbed his thumb against his lower lip. “The mattress for his bed hasn’t been delivered yet.” He was clearly enjoying seeing Stiles in pain.

Stiles groaned again. “He’s not bunking with me when I come back. He gets the couch. The dude _kicks_ in his sleep!” He was pretty sure he still had the bruise to prove it. Derek’s eyebrow rose again.

“I’ve heard Allison say that. But it’s no worse than what Scott told me you do.” Derek paused, letting that sink in. Slowly Stiles’s brain processed, and his mouth fell open. _Oh shit_. There was probably a lot of stuff Stiles did in his sleep. Drool, pass gas, flail, walk, and he knew for a fact that he was a talker, spilling his guts about all his subconscious fears, secrets, desires, etc…  “Apparently you sprawl.”

Stiles let out a held breath of air. “Oh. That.” Stiles frowned. He knew he was sort of a sprawler, but it wasn’t so bad. He never really shared his bed with anyone anymore, so it didn’t really matter. “How is that even remotely close to being worse than kicking people in your sleep?” Derek snorted and rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know Stiles, that paired with the fact that you don’t even shut up when you’re sleeping makes you a pretty obnoxious sleeper.” Derek answered and Stiles took offence to that. Because rude.

He pushed his study notes away from him and repositioned is lap top so Derek could see the look of annoyance on his face better.

“I bet you’re a cuddler.” Stiles blurted out without really thinking it through. Instantly Derek frowned and crossed his arms over his rock hard chest of muscly goodness. Stiles forced himself to look back up at the sour face. Derek was glaring holes into Stiles. If the cam quality wasn’t so pixelated, he would’ve sworn there was a _blush_ creeping up Derek’s neck. “Oh my god, I’m right. I’m so right! You’re a snuggler! That’s adorable!” Stiles couldn’t contain the evil cackles that burst out of him.

Derek flipped him off and looked about ready to jump through the screen and strangle him. “Shut the hell up, idiot.” Derek growled, but Stiles couldn’t control himself, or the copious amount of laughter seizing him. It was an entire minute later before Stiles finally stopped laughing, and wiped the single tear from his eye. He’d been laughing so hard that his stomach and cheeks hurt. “Are you done?” Derek asked, not looking amused _at all_.

It was just too cute though. The big bad Alpha being a _cuddler_. It was like trying to picture Stiles being _co-ordinated_. Just seemed wrong. “For now. Just wait ‘til I tell Lydia!” Stiles pulled out his phone, already sending her a text. He heard Derek growl, probably making Alpha eyes at him, but he didn’t care. The text was sent and received and shortly replied to. “She agreed with me. It’s adorable.”

Stiles smiled deviously and felt his phone go off again. He looked down and read another text.

**_Lydia:_ **

**Wait, if he’s a cuddler and you sprawl, how’s that going to work?**

Stiles frowned. “What time are you going to be here on Saturday?” Derek asked, sounding very much _done_ with being teased about his sleeping habits.

**_Stiles:_ **

**What do you mean? How’s what going to work?**

“Uhh,” Stiles paused, trying to type out the text and answer Derek at the same time but failing miserably. After he hit the send button he looked back up at Derek. “Time. Right. Probably around threeish. We’re planning on leaving at noon. Why?” He’d already told his dad when to expect him.

Derek shrugged, which was not a helpful answer. “Your dad was wondering.” He got quieter, fidgeting a little with his fingers. Stiles frowned but didn’t say anything. “Well I better get going.” Derek said after the silence got too uncomfortable for him. Stiles’s phone went off at the same time, but it could wait.

“Yeah, me too. Still have a lot of shit to go over for my Final.” Stiles nodded, reaching for his notes.

Derek looked like he wanted to say more, but instead just pursed his lips and nodded back.

“Cool. Good luck on that, by the way.” Derek said, attempting to smile. Stiles grinned.

“Thanks dude, it’s on Thursday. Still have a few days between now and then, so.” Stiles rubbed at his forehead, unsure about what to say next. He didn’t want to say goodbye quite yet; procrastinating was very much a good thing when Derek was involved.

Derek was biting at his lower lip, staring at Stiles like he expected something to happen. When the silence stretched out Stiles was fairly certain he was going to explode. Weren’t they supposed to be saying their goodbyes now?

“Derek?” Stiles asked, worried he said something wrong. But he hadn’t said anything at all. So what the hell?

“Shh.” Derek hushed him, still staring intently at his own computer screen. Stiles tilted his head, trying to listen for anything that would alarm Derek. “Do you hear that?” Derek asked, and Stiles strained to hear _anything_. But it was just silence.

“No, what is it?” He asked. Derek looked directly into the camera, so it looked as if he was looking directly at Stiles.

“It’s the longest silence you’ve ever gone without _exploding_ into _noise_.” Derek smirked, pleased with himself. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Would you prefer I sulk in silence and brood and angst? Maybe I’ll dye my hair black and live in a basement somewhere. Contemplate life until I’m driven into madness.” He pouted, picking up his highlighter again, just about ready to ignore Derek.

Derek let out a bark of a laugh. “That’d be the day.” His lips tilted into a half smile, taunting Stiles.

Stiles sighed and threw his face down into the bed. “I was describing you, you asshole.” He heard Derek scoff and had to look back up.

“Excuse _you_. My hair is _naturally_ black.” He looked dead serious. A second later they both broke out into a fit of laughs. When it died down Stiles sat there smiling like a complete idiot until Derek cleared his throat. “Okay, well, good luck studying. I’ll let your dad and Melissa know that you say hi. And I’ll tell Scott you’re more than happy to let him and Allison go all night long in your bed.” Derek grinned slyly.

Stiles dead panned. “You wouldn’t dare.” But Derek just kept smiling. “Derek! I swear-,” Stiles wasn’t messing around. He would _kill_ Derek, and Scott. Not Allison though. She was a _way_ better bro than Scott had turned out to be. Stiles spent most of his time with Lydia and her when they were visiting home. She was also a lot better at Call of Duty than Scott; the two of them dominated team matches.

“Think of this as payback for earlier.” Derek retorted, growing a bit more growly. The tone seemed to hit a nerve for Stiles; a jolt of arousal shooting straight down through his body. Stiles had to squirm a bit to relieve the pressure that was building in his pajama bottoms.

“Uhh…” He started, but his voice broke and he had to clear his throat. “Earlier? What’d I do earlier?” He tried to redirect the blood flow to his brain, but only managed it in time to remember what Derek was referring to.

“It’s cute how you think you can play dumb.” Derek had an eyebrow raised again and Stiles had to look away. He looked over at his bookcase, started reading off the titles in his head. “Lana and I had a lot of differences, okay? And it just got to a point where I couldn’t take it anymore.” He tried to explain but Stiles was only half listening.

“Take what anymore?” Stiles asked, genuinely curious. “From what I heard she doted on you!” She never left Derek’s side, probably drove him _absolutely insane_.

“The constant chattering about all that stupid _shit_. I don’t care about who the latest Bachelorette is, I don’t care how much money Kim Kardashian spent on her fucking wedding, and I really don’t give two shits about what new song Britney Spears just came out with! _Fuck_! When have I ever expressed an interest in that sort of crap?” Derek’s rant sort of had Stiles a little stunned.

“Uhh… Never?” Stiles replied, unsure if whether or not Derek was even looking for an answer.

“Exactly!” Derek shouted, thrusting his hand out towards the screen. “Not once! And she never asked! Just kept going on and on about all of it. It was so… _mundane_.” Derek paused, looking thoughtful and morose. “I guess she was just too _human_ , y’know?” Derek asked, fixing his gaze on Stiles.

Whatever hardness had developed in Stiles’s pants instantly disappeared at that. “Yeah. I totally get it.” He murmured, looking down at his keyboard. Stiles didn’t get it, actually. What was so bad about being human? Just because he didn’t have fast reflexes and super strength, it didn’t mean that he was _boring_. Or mundane. Or anything less than Derek or Scott or any of the werewolves.

Derek didn’t seem to notice Stiles slowly retreating into himself, but he didn’t have a chance to examine the other boy too closely before someone new entered the conversation. “Stiles, bro!”

Andrew, one of Stiles’s roommates - the one who was incapable of _knocking -_ barged into his bedroom. “The guys and I are heading down to the Burn’s if you wanna join?” He asked before he even looked over to see the mess of papers lying in front of Stiles on his bed. “Oh shit, you still have a Final left? That blows dude!” He invited himself in and plopped himself down on the end of the bed.

“Yeah, just one this Thursday.” Stiles said, looking down at his notes and reading a sentence or two before looking back up and almost jumping out of his skin. Andrew’s face was right beside his, leaning over his shoulder to look closer at Stiles’s laptop screen.

Derek didn’t look exceptionally thrilled at being interrupted. “Andrew.” Derek ground out, glaring at the screen. The two had met over Skype chat before, much in the same intruding way. Andrew just nodded back before looking over at Stiles, his face barely enough space away to allow Stiles to breathe. From the stench of Andrew’s breath it was clear he’d already had a few beers.

“So you coming bro?” Andrew asked again, leaning in even _closer_. Stiles had to move away before Andrew planted a kiss on his cheek.

“No thanks man, kinda busy.” Stiles motioned to the laptop and Andrew scoffed.

“The bearded dude can wait. Come have a drink with me!” Andrew bellowed, tugging at Stiles’s arm. If looks could kill Andrew would’ve been _mutilated_. Stiles had noticed Derek got perturbed when anyone in the pack was being touched by someone outside of the pack, so he wouldn’t mistake the need to protect for an expression of jealousy.

“He said no.” Derek growled, and the look in his eyes was threateningly close to crossing over into glowy Alpha territory, which was so not good. They could dismiss it as lighting, or Andrew being drunk, but Stiles didn’t want to have to lie out of his ass tonight.

“Don’t worry about me dude, you guys go have fun.” Stiles tried to usher Andrew out of the room, but the guy was in a glaring contest with the _Alpha_. If that didn’t sign your own death warrant, Stiles didn’t know what more it would take to. “I bet Jason’ll be there!” Stiles tried, and that was enough to break Andrew away from Derek.

“Do y’think?” Andrew asked hopefully, looking up at Stiles like he’d just told him he could poop out rainbows. Jason was the super-hot guy next door. _Literally_ next door. He lived in the apartment just down the hallway with a few other less noteworthy Berkeley students. Stiles and Andrew were the only ones in their apartment that noticed him - considering their other roommates; Ben had a fiancé, and Nathan was a total player… of girls-only. Stiles was a little more liberal, something he didn’t figure out until his last year of high school when he realized he was literally _surrounded_ by all these attractive people – both male and female, and human and werewolf – so he had to accept that he was open to playing both fields.

At first the idea of coming out had been hard, but when he got it over and done with, he felt extremely relieved. And still loved. His father had been such a sap about it; telling Stiles that he loved his son no matter what, because they’d already gone through the, _hey dad, my best friend is a werewolf and I run around fighting supernatural creatures that we thought only existed in fairy tales_ , and there wasn’t much more than that, that could faze the sheriff.

“Oh yeah! I’m sure of it! And if he isn’t, well, there’s no shame in bringing home a guy that looks like him, right?” Stiles asked, jumping off his bed and literally _escorting_ Andrew out of his room, because he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get the guy out any other possible way.

“Yeah!” Andrew hollered, bumping his fist against Stiles's before leaving down the hallway to rejoin the guys, _whoever they were_. Ben didn’t go out drinking much, and Nathan still had a couple Finals to deal with. So Stiles didn’t want to know.

When he jumped back onto his bed and started rearranging his notes, it took him a good full minute to remember he was still on Skype with Derek. “Oh! Shit! Sorry. Got a lot on my mind.” Stiles said once he realized Derek was watching him with amusement. Derek licked his lips, and Stiles’s eyes followed the movement. Without his brain's permission.

“I should really get going now anyways.” Derek said, and did some typing before looking back up to Stiles. “Get some studying done, ace the Final, pack, and I’ll see you Saturday.” He ended the call before Stiles could even reply.

Stiles let out a sigh and rolled over onto his back so he could stare up at the ceiling. Somewhere in his brain it registered that he still had an unread text waiting for him and he scrambled to get his phone out of his pocket.

**_Lydia:_ **

**Sleeping together would be a little difficult then, wouldn’t it? He’d want to cling; you’d want to spread out all over the bed. And him. You should try it sometime, let me know how it goes.**

Stiles basically choked on his own saliva, and he made a strangled noise, because _nope_.

**_Stiles:  
_ **

**Yeah, it’d be like sleeping with a bear. Actually, a werewolf. I’d end up losing a few limbs.**

He sent the message and tried to focus on his notes. It was impossible. The moment his phone vibrated he pounced for it.

**_Lydia:_ **

**Interesting. I could see Derek being rough with you, but not that rough. Not unless you liked it.**

Stiles made another strangled noise and began frantically typing.

**_Stiles:_ **

**OMG. Can you not? You know that’s not what I meant!**

He threw the phone away from himself, watching as it landed further up on the bed. He didn’t need Lydia teasing him about Derek. Not that it was a new thing, but it was a hopeless thing. Derek was just… well, he was a lot of things. And it drove Stiles mental sometimes. It was impossible to keep himself from staring too long, or saying too much, _which he always did anyways_.

His phone’s screen lit up and he contemplated throwing it out a window. But his resolve crumbled in about two seconds and he was lunging across the bed.

_**Lydia:** _

**You’re so cute Stiles. So innocent.**

Stiles was not _innocent_. He was so far from innocent that Lydia had no right.

**_Stiles:_ **

**Bite me.**

Stiles wished he could come up with a better come back than _bite me_ , but it was starting to get late and he was pretty sure all of this studying was doing the opposite of what it was supposed to be doing, because his brain felt like mush. He doubted any studying he did would have any effect on what he would be able to retain until he took the Final.

**_Lydia:_ **

**No, sorry. That’s Derek’s job. He is the Alpha, after all ;)**

And that was it. Stiles didn’t have the patience anymore.

**_Stiles:_ **

**I’m going to bed.**

He gathered up all of his notes and books and put them on his desk before crawling under the covers and turning his bedside lamp off. When his phone lit up he checked it quickly, hoping she was letting it drop.

**_Lydia:_ **

**You’re no fun.**

He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes.

_**Stiles:**  
_

**Goodnight Lydia.**

He rolled over onto his side, punching the pillow a couple times until it was an acceptable amount of comfortable.

**_Lydia:_ **

**Goodnight Stiles.**

He plugged the phone into charge and closed his eyes, slowly drifting in and out of consciousness until his imagination and thoughts slipped away, replaced by dreams and images of things he wouldn’t recall in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

The days leading up to Saturday passed by without incident; the only really exciting point was when he woke up five minutes later than he’d planned to on Thursday, before he was supposed to take his Final, and he’d had to eat his breakfast sandwich while he was on his way to the building, making the whole ordeal a little messier than usual. After that it all died down until Friday evening when he got a text from Lydia, expressing her profound delight that she’d been right about Jackson proposing.

Stiles offered to drive over afterwards with some champagne to celebrate but he was informed that sexy times were going to be had, so champagne would be shared at a later date. That left Stiles alone on Friday night to procrastinate packing, until it got to be two in the morning without his realization. So by Saturday morning he forced himself awake and rolled out of bed so that he was ready to go by ten. He grabbed breakfast with Ben, because the dude was actually a pretty chill guy and was studying History, which also dabbled in mythology, which Stiles absolutely _loved_.

They killed an hour talking about what they were going to do over the holidays, how much they missed home, and just really random stuff that comprises an hour-long conversation. Ben, apparently, was going back to his hometown to spend the Christmas holidays with his fiancé. He told Stiles about the presents he’d gotten her and Stiles watched the guy light up and thought it was sweet, but he couldn’t ever see himself getting excited over buying someone a _snow globe_.

By the time Stiles got back to his apartment, Lydia and Jackson were already waiting for him. As soon as he jumped out of the jeep Lydia held out her left hand and he looked down to see the ring on her finger. He remembered to act surprised, but didn’t have to fake the enthusiasm or the genuine happiness he felt for her, and Jackson.

“So, it’s official huh?” Stiles asked giving Jackson a nudge on the shoulder. “Finally listened to Beyoncé?” Jackson looked at him like he was a complete idiot, but that wasn’t anything new. “Y’know.” Stiles paused and began dancing the _Single Ladies_ dance. “If you liked it then you shoulda put a ring on it!” He attempted to sing it, and Jackson nodded and sort of smiled, though it still looked forced. At least he was _trying_. Proof he wasn’t still the same douche that he was back in high school.

“Yeah. Look Stilinski, I’m sorta in a hurry to get home. So if you could just…” Jackson trailed off, walking around Stiles to his Porsche to grab both his and Lydia’s suitcases from it. It was a wonder that they’d fit in the car at all, but they’d fit nicely in the jeep, which was why they were driving that back instead of the Porsche.

Lydia popped up behind Stiles and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, giggling. “Don’t mind him. He’s a little nervous about telling his parents, and mine. I _know_ they’re going to be thrilled. There’s nothing to worry about.” Stiles nodded but felt his heart sink a little.

“Maybe he’s more worried about letting them know that you’re going to be moving two hours away from Beacon Hills.” Stiles said, a little more quietly. There was no point though, Jackson still heard him.

“You told him?” Jackson asked, giving Lydia an annoyed look. She just pursed her lips and threw her hair over her shoulder.

“I tell Stiles everything.” She said and released Stiles from the sneak hug. “And usually he’s smart enough not to say anything.” She shot him a dark look before hopping into the front passenger side of the jeep. He sighed, running his hand through his hair absent-mindedly. He’d get over it, eventually, but he seriously wanted to talk it out. Convince himself that this was the best thing for them to do. Because it really was.

But he didn’t want it to be.

If he could have it his way, the entire pack would never be apart from one another. Unfortunately, that’s just not how the real world worked. After school they’d all have to find jobs and places to live, and depending on what they wanted to do for the rest of their lives, that could mean moving two hours away and only seeing each other on weekends. They couldn’t stay in Beacon Hills forever. Someday they’d have to move on.

They would always be a pack though, because no amount of time or distance separating them could ever weaken the bonds they all created and now shared with each other. A part of that was friendship, so strong it was a sense of _home_ and of _family_. But there was something even deeper there too, something Stiles could never really explain. It was like they were all tied together somehow, capable of knowing when another pack mate was in danger or emotionally in need of some comfort or loving.

Stiles asked Derek about it once and he’d explained it was one of the many additions that came along with being in a werewolf pack.

“Stilinski, we heading out? Or are you just gonna keep standing there all day?” Jackson called out impatiently from the jeep’s back seat. Stiles quickly hopped in and started her up. “We were about to leave without you.” Jackson grumbled, but it was an empty threat and they all knew it. Stiles switched on the radio and turned it up full blast, ignoring the whining protests from the back seat.

The drive home was uneventful, and they only stopped once for gas and a bathroom break before they were back on the road again. They were all eager to be home, so if Stiles broke a few speeding laws, no one complained.

When they saw the ' _You are now Entering Beacon Hills'_ sign, all three of them exchanged smiles, uniformly letting out a cheer of celebration. Stiles made quick work of dropping them both off at Lydia’s mom’s house, and was on his way to his dad’s when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled up to a red light and retrieved it to see he had a new text message.

_**Papa Stilinski:** _

**You almost home son?**

Stiles replied in the affirmative, and just finished hitting the send button when he heard a car’s horn sounding behind him. He looked up and saw that the light had changed to green so he quickly packed away his phone and started forward. One glance in his rear view mirror to see what asshole was honking at him, and Stiles almost swerved off the road.

There was only one person, in the entirety of Beacon Hills, that had enough money and nerve to own the sleek black Camaro trailing behind him. Before Stiles knew what was happening, a smile hijacked his face.

It was only two more blocks to the house and Derek apparently had the same destination in mind because he was following closely behind the jeep. When Stiles pulled up to the curb opposite of his dad’s house and finished up parking, he got out and began unloading his bags. He dropped his suitcase on the ground so that he could retrieve a smaller bag full of books from deeper in the trunk. When he resurfaced, the suitcase had disappeared and Derek was already halfway up the driveway with the case in his hands.

“I _am_ capable of carrying my own bags you know!” Stiles shouted as he slammed the jeep’s back door shut. Derek didn’t even look over his shoulder.

“You were taking too long!” He hollered back before disappearing into the house. Stiles hurried to join him because he _was not_ slow. And yeah, maybe he was more than a little excited that he was _finally_ home.

As soon as he crossed the threshold he was _tackled_ by _Allison_ , which he _so_ wasn’t expecting. His back hit the door and Allison was giggling wildly, kissing his cheek and alerting the rest of the household that their Berkeley boy was finally home. He gave her a tight hug.

“Jesus woman, you tackle like an enforcer!” She seemed all sweet and innocent, but she could probably kick Stiles’s ass. And when Stiles said probably, he actually meant _definitely_. She rested her hands on his shoulders and grinned up at him.

“Sorry, just glad to have you back.” She placed another kiss on his cheek before bounding away into the living room. Stiles took a deep breath and instantly his mouth was watering. Melissa had been cooking. That meant food. Glorious, glorious home cooked food. He kicked off his shoes and stalked his way into the kitchen. Melissa was at the counter cutting up garlic and onions.

“Mama McCall!” Stiles greeted, spreading his arms wide to encase her in a hug. Melissa dropped her knife and turned to him, a big, welcoming smile on her face.

“Stiles!” She let him pull her into a hug. “Who let _you_ in?” She teased, pulling away and immediately going back to her food preparation. She was in her nursing scrubs, which meant she’d either just gotten back from a shift, or soon she’d have to go in for one.

“I got a key made, remember?” Stiles smirked and leaned in a little closer to the food. It was just in prep stage, but it smelled _so good_. Apparently they were having steak for dinner. Stiles approved. One hundred percent.

There was a bowl of caesar salad already made, and Stiles’s stomach grumbled when he saw it. He reached out to take a leaf, _just one_ , but Melissa slapped his hand away. “I don’t think so buddy, you have to wait just like the rest of us. Now go say hello to your father, he’s in the living room with Scott and Allison.” She batted him away from the food and turned him in the direction of the doorway.

Stiles obeyed, but not before throwing one more longing glance at the food. When he peered into the living room he was tackled again, this time by Scott. They exchanged their bro-hug, clapped each other on the shoulder, and then Scott stepped aside so the Sheriff could get a good look at his son.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing my boy come home, looking like a proper man.” He smiled, pulling his son into a bear hug. When they parted Stiles looked down at himself, not really sure what his father was talking about. He was wearing one of his button-downs, which he was used to wearing to class now, and a new pair of jeans he’d just bought. All-in-all this was how he casually dressed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles asked, not certain whether he should be offended or not. The sheriff just smiled and rested his hands on Stiles’s shoulders.

“No graphic tees, no ripped jeans. And your hair isn’t a mop like it used to be when you first grew it out.” His dad ruffled his hair and Stiles had to physically stop himself from cringing and manoeuvering out of his father’s reach. “And, you know, _not_ coming home with bloodstains on your shirt really makes a dad proud.” He arched an eyebrow and Stiles groaned.

It was _one_ time, and his dad never let him live it down. That was the night he finally told his father about werewolves and the supernatural world that came with them. Stiles had gotten into a little trouble, a few scrapes and scratches, stitches running the length of his forearm… it was a good bonding experience. Sort of.

Besides the fact the sheriff had almost had a _heart attack_.

“I do what I can.” Stiles smiled and flopped down on the couch next to Allison. Scott was sitting on the floor in between her legs and she was absentmindedly running her fingers through his hair. Over the volume of the television Stiles could hear someone stomping down the staircase. “You’d think after years of creeping around in dark corners and spying on teenagers, Derek wouldn’t make so much goddamn noise coming down the stairs!” Stiles grumbled, relaxing into the couch a bit more to get comfortable.

He waited for some sort of retort from Derek, telling him that he was an idiot, and that if anyone made too much noise it would be Stiles. But there was nothing. No snort of derision, no snarky comment. _Nothing_. That should’ve been the first hint that Derek was up to no good. Unfortunately for Stiles, he was too busy melting into the couch to put two and two together.

He nestled into his spot, finding the _perfect_ lounging position, and along with it pure bliss, when he suddenly felt hands wrap around his shoulders and yank _up_. He let out an, “ _Ohmygod!_ ” as he was plucked out of his seat like he weighed no more than a feather. When it was all done he was on his feet behind the couch and still trying to figure out _what the hell_ just happened.

“At least I know to be silent when it counts.” Derek said, voice low and breath hot on Stiles’s ear. Stiles chuckled nervously, trying to take a step away because he could feel the heat of Derek’s body radiating onto his back. Derek’s hand slid down the front of Stiles until it rested just below his chest, and the two of them had almost no space between them _at all_. Stiles could’ve fought against it, he’d rough housed with Derek before. It came along with being in a pack of werewolves where most of them were guys. Play fighting tended to occur daily.

And Stiles knew exactly what Derek would do if Stiles so much as moved a muscle. A headlock was an impending doom that Stiles so wasn’t in the mood for, after a two and a half hour long drive. All he wanted to do was chill with his family and sleep. Because the semester was over and Christmas was less than a week away and he still had to do some last minute gift shopping tomorrow with Allison and Lydia, and that may end up being a nightmare considering it was the last weekend before Christmas day.

“Okay Alpha, I submit, please don’t try to choke me.” Stiles said, pulling at Derek’s arm over his chest. Derek snorted and released Stiles, but before Stiles could reclaim his spot next to Allison, Derek jumped over the back of the couch and stole it. “Not cool dude! I was sitting there first!” Stiles knew that he sounded like a five year old, but it was Derek. Stiles half-expected him to reply back with something like, _I don’t see your name on it_.

Luckily the sheriff had been a father for many, many years. He could see an argument starting and quickly decided to separate the two children about to fight over a _spot_. “Hey son, why don’t you start unpacking your stuff up in your bedroom?” Stiles rolled his eyes and pouted, but one look from his dad told Stiles that they were all _way too old for this shit_.

“Fine. But this isn’t over Hale.” He grumbled before dragging his feet up the stairs. As soon as he got into his room he closed the door and face planted onto his bed. He shuffled under the covers, burying his face into his pillow. He sighed, and when he breathed in he caught the scent of something familiar but unknown. He frowned, pulling his face away and examining the pillow case, studying it to see if it looked any different from the last time he was there. But it was still the same, still some drool stains and what have you. Maybe his dad switched to a different laundry detergent.

He was going to unpack, he really was. But a few nights earlier, the night before his last Final, he’d been up until four in the morning studying. And since then he hadn’t exactly gotten a whole lot of sleep. So he could definitely do a nap.

He was about to drift off when he heard a small knock on his door. He didn’t even bother getting up, just groaned and pulled the covers up around his head. The door opened slowly, and he was hoping that whoever it was would take the hint, but a few seconds later he felt someone sit on the edge of his bed.

“This doesn’t look like unpacking to me.” Derek muttered and Stiles peeked out from underneath the covers. Derek was giving Stiles a wry look, but Stiles was too tired to tell him to bugger off. Derek sat there in silence and Stiles made the decision to shut his eyes and attempt sleep anyways. He almost achieved it when the weight on the bed shifted, and the covers lifted away from him for a moment before settling back down.

He looked over his shoulder to see that Derek had absolutely no idea what personal space meant, or what Stiles’s bed _meant_ to him. It was like his personal cloud of comfort and warmth and security. Stiles didn’t share that space easily. In fact, he never actually _had_ slept in this bed with anyone else before. Not including Scott, because that was years ago and Scott just didn’t count.

He shifted uncomfortably, accidentally kicking Derek and recoiling quickly. He grumbled out an apology, but kept fidgeting. After a full minute of twitching and trying to unwind himself from being so wired by Derek joining him, he felt an arm wrap around his waist, and in one swift move Derek pulled him across the bed. “Dude! What the hell?” Stiles yelped, and the fact that Derek’s _crotch_ was _right there_ by Stiles’s _ass_ , well, Stiles wasn’t exactly thrilled that he was getting so _thrilled_.

“You’re keeping me awake. Just go to sleep.” Derek grumbled, resting his forehead on the back of Stiles’s neck. Stiles’s entire body froze as Derek’s breath ghosted along Stiles’s neck, tickling his spine as it crawled down his skin. He shuddered, expelling some of the energy that had created.

“ _Sorry_ , I’m not exactly used to being manhandled to sleep.” Stiles shifted, closing his eyes and picturing the periodic table in his head, imagining all the elements and placing them in correct order. After a moment he felt a little better, distracted from the fact that his entire body wanted to burst into flame.

He relaxed, just enough that the drowsiness from before returned and weighed down his eyelids until he couldn’t force them open any longer. Derek’s breathing evened out first, and the hold he had around Stiles’s waist grew tighter as he slipped deeper into sleep.

Stiles wasn’t going to analyze this. In fact, he wasn’t even going to think about it. He’d fall asleep and he’d wake up, and when Derek did the same he’d release Stiles and they probably wouldn’t ever talk about it ever again. Because it really wasn’t that big of a deal. Derek spent time with the entire pack, making sure the bond between Alpha and Beta remained strong. He had no doubt in his mind that this was what it was. Just some pack-bonding thing.

And he was okay with that. But that’s all it could be. Stiles wasn’t even one hundred percent sure if Derek was even into guys. So really, he stood no chance.

After a while he fell asleep, dreaming of nothing. He awoke a couple hours later, groggy and _even more tired_ than before. He should’ve known better than to take a nap. They always left him worse off. He went to stretch and just about panicked when he felt his hips were trapped under a heavy weight. But then he remembered. And then he freaked out just a little bit. _And then_ he sighed and resigned himself to what had occurred.

He’d fallen asleep in Derek’s arms.

He blinked open his bleary eyes and almost screamed, all of his internal organs threatening to jump out of his skin. The jolt of panic and surprise sent his heart beat racing in his chest. Standing over him was Allison. With her phone. Her _camera phone_.

_Oh god._

Allison grinned devilishly, snapping another picture. “Lydia’ll love these.” Stiles tried to snatch the phone out of her hands but he was too slow and still restricted by Derek's hold on him, and she bounced out of his reach easily. “Your dad told me to inform you that dinner’s ready.” She said, still smirking, looking all too pleased with herself. Stiles was blushing, he could feel the blood warming his cheeks and neck, and all he wanted to do now was disappear under the covers forever and never come out again.

Allison quickly made her exit at the sound of Derek awakening. “What was Allison doing in here?” He asked, nuzzling his face into the back of Stiles’s neck and breathing deeply. Stiles had given up on trying to squirm away and just strictly told all of his parts to behave themselves.

“Snapping a picture of the world’s cutest couple.” Stiles joked and that got the Alpha to loosen his grip, just enough for Stiles to roll away. “Dinner’s ready.” He jumped out of the bed and waited for Derek to do the same so that he could fix the covers. Derek wasn’t moving though. He still had his eyes closed, and now that Stiles wasn’t in the bed anymore, Derek was latching on to the pillow Stiles had been using. “Dude. Dinner. C’mon.” He reached over and shook Derek’s leg, hoping to irritate Derek enough to get him out of the bed.

After a full minute of leg shaking Stiles got his wish. Derek growled and kicked his leg to jostle it away from Stiles's reach, swinging it over himself so that he was lying on his back now. “I’ll be down there in five.” Derek said, voice still half-asleep. Stiles stared at him for a minute, frowning.

“I don’t think so dude. This is my bed. That makes it my rules. And my rules say that no one can be in this bed unless I’m in it with them.” Stiles crossed his arms and a second later Derek opened one eye to look at him. They had a glaring contest, and usually it ended in a stalemate, but this time Derek let out a huff of breath and sat up, sliding out of the bed and onto his feet.

Stiles expected some grumbling, or at least for the Alpha to walk out of the room without another word, but surprisingly he leaned down and pulled the sheets back to their normal, made state. Stiles wasn’t going to question it, he was just thanking all the gods of all the worlds that Derek at least respected and appreciated Stiles’s need to have his bed clean. Scott had never helped make the bed, and Stiles was fairly certain that Scott _still_ never made his _own_ bed. And the guy was nearly twenty one now.

Some things never changed.

“So,” Stiles started as they made their way down the stairs and into the dining room where everyone else was already situated, “I know you said you cuddled, but seriously? I felt like a life sized stuffed animal.” He nudged Derek’s arm and Derek nudged him back.

“It was either that or have you flailing around every five seconds.” Derek replied, rolling his eyes and taking his seat next to Scott. The rest of them were already sitting down and passing around the food, having their own separate conversations. It wasn’t quiet. It sounded like there was triple the amount of people in the room. And Stiles loved it.

There was a sense of ease and family, something he missed while he was up at Berkeley and having KD for dinner in his room, one hand turning the pages in his text books while the other wrote down notes, only taking breaks at five minute intervals to shove a spoonful of noodles into his mouth. He sighed, content, and took his spot next to his dad.

The dinner was absolutely _amazing_. The steak melted in his mouth and the salad was devoured in a matter of seconds. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was, but by the time he’d finished his meal he was full and ready to sink into the couch. Before he could do that, Melissa excused herself for a second and disappeared into the kitchen. She came back in carrying in a nice warm _apple pie_.

Stiles was pretty sure he’d died and gone to heaven.

When it was all said and done he was one hundred percent certain he was going to gain at least ten pounds during his stay there, if every meal was like that; and knowing Melissa they definitely would be. Oh well, Stiles didn’t exactly need to impress anyone. And he’d burn it all off when he went jogging the next morning, a habit he’d developed during his eleventh year of high school and maintained even at Berkeley.

He helped clear the table, and he and Allison washed the dishes in the sink, getting halfway through a soap bubble war before Melissa poked her head in and gave them both an unimpressed look. The rest of the night was spent watching television, Stiles squished in between Derek and Allison, Scott back in his spot on the floor, and his father and Melissa cuddling nice and close on the loveseat.

It had been a couple years now since the two of them had gotten together, and a year since they moved in together. It was still sort of weird to see them together, all romantic and intimate, but Stiles was slowly getting used to it. And he and Scott were already brothers so it really didn’t change much for them.

Halfway through a rerun episode of _Supernatural_ , Stiles’s phone started to go off. Lydia’s name flashed across the screen and Stiles debated whether or not he wanted to answer. In the end it was inevitable though. He stood up and walked into the kitchen, getting a little more privacy.

“Hey there sweetness,” he answered, leaning against the counter.

“You better start explaining Stiles, and it better be good.” Lydia demanded. Stiles had no idea what on earth she was talking about.

“What?” He asked. If he’d done something heinous enough to warrant a phone call from Lydia, he was fairly certain he would’ve remembered it.

“Allison sent me a picture earlier of you and Derek. Together. Sleeping. In the same bed.” She said it all very slowly, as if she were explaining something to a child. Stiles felt the blood rushing to his face.

“Oh, uh… that…” He trailed off, running his fingers through his hair as he raced through his options. He could tell Lydia the truth, that Derek had just invited himself into Stiles’s bed and they had a nap and that was that. Lydia wouldn’t believe that though. Or she would dissect it until it ruined Stiles’s sanity.

The other option was hanging up, or finding some way to avoid talking about it. Get her off this track and onto another. Usually that was nearly impossible. But it wasn’t every day that Lydia got engaged and had to start thinking about wedding plans and all that jazz.

“Y’know, I think the real question here is where are you and Jackson gonna have the wedding ceremony?” He bit his lip, hoping she’d take the bait. The other line was silent for a very long moment.

“We already decided at the church where his biological parents are buried. You’re dodging the question Stiles. How did you end up in bed with the Alpha?” Stiles was about to let out a breath of relief, but she hadn’t been deterred. Stiles should’ve known better to even try in the first place. "I mean, I know I suggested you test my theory, but I didn't think you'd have the balls to actually _do it_."

He sighed in exasperation and peered through the open doorway into the living room. He could see Derek from there, and it looked like he was enraptured by whatever scene was on the television. “Y’know, sometimes I wonder why you’re my best friend.” He pushed away from the counter and headed towards the stairs, hoping that he could have this conversation without the werewolves in the house hearing every single word.

“Just answer the question Stiles.” Lydia ordered and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I respond better if there’s a _please_ somewhere in there.” He made quick work of the stairs and slipped into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. He retrieved his laptop from his bag and plugged it in. In a minute he had some music playing, hoping that would help cover his voice. Lydia was waiting patiently for him to respond. She still hadn’t said please. “Okay. He came in when I was trying to catch a few z’s, and he was tired too so he joined me. No big deal. Can you please stop looking so smug, I can practically feel it radiating through the phone.” He plopped down into his office chair and spun in it, tapping his free hand against his knee.

“I’m not smug. Not yet. I’ll be smug when the two of you finally get your heads out of your asses and put your asses to better use.” Stiles groaned and buried his face in his hand.

“Oh. My. _God_. We have talked about this before Lydia! Derek is seriously just downstairs. I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” He pulled the phone away from his ear, his finger hovering over the end button, but he just couldn’t do it. “You’re so frustrating!” He growled into the phone before pulling it back up to his ear.

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” She replied and hung up, leaving no room for argument. He let out an irritated growl before throwing his phone across the room and onto his bed. It was always the same thing. Every time. Stiles didn’t understand why she couldn’t just drop it already. He also couldn’t see what the hell she was talking about.

Derek and Stiles would never exist as a couple. They were individuals in a pack together. That was it. Derek had never expressed an interest in Stiles, and he never would. Because Stiles was _Stiles_. He was uncoordinated and unfocused, still growing into his long limbs and still taking Adderall. He got on Derek’s nerves and challenged Derek. They got along most of the time, but then there were times when they clashed so much Stiles was glad he lived two hours away.

“Hey,” Derek was suddenly poking his head through the doorway of the bedroom and Stiles just about fell out of his chair. Derek smirked, clearly amused, and continued into the room. “Allison told me you, Lydia, and her are hitting the mall tomorrow. Mind if I tag along?” Stiles wasn’t sure why his opinion mattered to Derek, but he shrugged anyways.

“I guess?” He replied, watching as Derek smiled and nodded.

“Cool. I guess I’ll see you then.” He began to disappear but paused and pulled himself back into sight. “Allison’s heading back to her dad’s place, if you wanna say goodbye.” He hovered for a moment longer and Stiles just raised an eyebrow. Derek looked like he wanted to say something more, but he was holding back. “I, uh…” he trailed off and hesitantly took a step into the bedroom. Stiles felt his palms starting to sweat. “I never got to say, welcome back.” Derek smiled, though it was a little awkward, and reached out to pull Stiles into a tight hug.

It took a moment for Stiles to register the gesture, so his hands slid slowly around Derek to return it. They stood like that, hugging, for a long moment. It was a little awkward at first, while Stiles’s mind was racing and his body was rigid because it just didn’t know how to react. But then Derek rested his chin on Stiles’s shoulder, and his hand on the small of Stiles’s back, pulling them closer. Both of them, little by little, relaxed into each other. It’d been a while since Stiles had an honest to god hug, one that lasted longer than the socially acceptable three seconds, and it was nice. Really nice.

He closed his eyes and followed Derek’s example, resting his head against the other man’s shoulder. When he did so, he could see passed Derek and into the hallway, and lo and behold stood Allison taking yet _another_ picture of them. Stiles groaned and pulled away from Derek, glaring at Allison.

“Weren’t you leaving?” He asked, though the anger that had flared up was already gone. She was just ridiculous, and she and Lydia together were trouble. It suddenly dawned on him that he was now _stuck_ with the both of them _and_ Derek tomorrow. That was _super_.

“I came up to say goodbye, but I don’t want to interrupt anything. I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” Before Stiles could even get a word in she ran away down the stairs and out of the house, leaving him and Derek alone in his room again.

Stiles scratched at the back of his head, watching as Derek kept his eyes trained on Allison’s retreating figure. “Alright, so, have a good night?” Stiles asked, hoping his voice was steady. Derek gave him a sidelong glance before nodding and turning, following in Allison’s footsteps.

“You too Stiles.” He called over his shoulder, and then he was gone. Stiles stood there for a while before crawling into his bed and pulling the covers over himself. Derek’s scent lingered, like a part of him remained in the sheets that enveloped Stiles.

Easily he drifted off, and that night he dreamt of Derek, lounging in bed together all day long. No school to worry about, no hunters or rogue werewolves. Just them, tangled together until Stiles wasn’t sure where he ended and Derek started.

Stiles woke up smiling.


	3. Chapter 3

“I don’t know… you don’t think it’s a bit…?” Derek asked, motioning to the entire shirt that he was trying on. It was a little snug, clinging to the muscle underneath, probably _just_  to drive Stiles insane. He bit down on his thumb to keep himself focused. Suddenly he was regretting allowing Derek come with them to the mall. He’d been attached to Lydia and Allison by the hip, one of them on each of his arms.

And it wasn’t like Stiles was jealous. He didn’t get jealous. He just felt a little left out.

The only really good thing to come out of the day so far was a shirt that said, “ _At least I didn’t shoot the Deputy_ ,” which he bought for his dad. Obviously. And he managed to grab the next book for Melissa in the series she’d been talking about quite a bit. And, for his bro, Stiles picked up a new controller for Scott’s x-box, since the last one got destroyed in a fit of werewolf rage.

 “What? It looks fine!” Stiles tried to encourage but Derek shot him a dark look. “Better than fine, even. You look great.” He tried and the other man stood there brooding.

“It’s too bright.” Derek said, looking back at himself in the full body length mirror. The dress shirt was a deep, dark purple. There was nothing _bright_ about it. Just sexy as hell. But obviously Stiles couldn’t say that.

“What’re you talking about? It’s nearly _black_!” He exclaimed. Derek was being stubborn and ridiculous, and he was the one who suggested they take a look in here while the girls were in _La Senza_. He’d even picked out the bloody shirt in the first place!

Derek made a sour face at himself in the mirror before turning it on Stiles. “I think your eyesight might be off. Ever think about getting glasses?” Derek smirked, a taunting and teasing look in his softening gaze. Stiles rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as he leaned against the wall.

“So I can look like our old librarian, Mr. Kennedy? I don’t think so dude. Kennedy was a fucking _weirdo_.” Stiles pictured the old dude who literally came to school once dressed like a Viking. Kennedy had been pretty chill, one of Stiles’s favourite teachers, but still. The guy had never been married and he smelled like cat pee 24/7. He also sweat through all of his shirts, even during the winter time.

Derek chuckled, apparently revisiting some of his own memories of the old librarian. “Yeah, and you’re not weird _at all_. You just willingly run around with werewolves and supernatural beings, risking your life because you’re an idiot and loyal to a _fault_.” Derek had a way of saying things offensively, but making it sound like it was a compliment. Or maybe it was the other way around? _God_. Stiles just didn’t know. But Derek was smirking and looking at Stiles with a fond regard.

“Sorry, I haven’t heard you complain before when I was saving your little werewolf ass from certain death.” Two could play at that game. Stiles straightened up a little, stretching to his full height, which after his last growth spurt, he now surpassed Derek. Didn’t really matter considering Derek was still _way_ more intimidating than Stiles could ever hope to be, but sometimes it just made Stiles feel better on the inside.

“Oh? And how many times have I taken a bullet or an arrow or an _explosion_ for you, because you always manage to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?” Derek straightened out too, puffing out his chest a little and arching an expressive eyebrow.

“And who always takes the arrow out? Brings you back to your apartment? Stays until he’s sure you’ve healed enough that you can protect yourself?” Somehow they ended up almost nose to nose and Stiles had to take a conscious step backwards. As he did, some of the heat dissipated. Derek looked confused for a moment, staring blankly at Stiles.

“You did. Always.” Derek frowned and Stiles watched the other man do what he did best. Fold in on himself. Stiles sighed, looking down at his watch and hoping that the girls would find them soon. “Why?” Stiles looked up instantly.

“Why what?” If Derek was about to ask Stiles _why_ he’d decided to be a part of the pack, why he’d gone out of his way to ensure its safety, well Stiles was going to slap him. Full on back hand the asshole. Derek knew, probably better than most of the others, that pack was family. You didn’t just do things for them because you needed to, but also because you wanted to. Stiles wanted to be there for them, no matter what sort of danger it would put him in. He’d made the decision years ago, and he wasn’t about to change it now.

Derek took in a deep breath, looking down at Stiles’s feet. “Why did you always stay?” He stopped, frowning even harder. His eyes shot up, locking onto Stiles’s with such an intensity that Stiles _wanted_ to look away but couldn’t. “Even when I yelled at you and pushed you away. You kept coming back.” Derek shook his head, closing his eyes and finally allowing Stiles to look away. He didn’t know what to say; how to answer that. He wasn’t even sure why it was even a question in the first place.

“Who else was gonna take care of your danger-prone ass?” Stiles tried to lighten the mood, and ignore the question entirely, hoping it would resolve itself somehow. Derek pursed his lips, shrugging, and opened his eyes only to look away from Stiles. He looked a little disappointed; like there was something he wanted to hear instead of some sarcastic remark. “Besides,” Stiles started, realizing his mistake, “I don’t mind it. Being there. Being _here_.” There was more Stiles wanted to say, but Derek probably wasn’t looking for more than a little reassurance that Stiles still wanted to be pack.

Derek smiled softly and without saying another word disappeared into the change room. Stiles leaned himself up against the wall and bounced the back of his head off it of a couple times to reclaim some focus. He closed his eyes and played through some of their past experiences, before Stiles had to move two hours away to go to school. A lot had changed since then. They’d all grown up and matured. Derek had changed the most. He didn’t hide from his feelings, didn’t constantly try to ensure his place as Alpha because now he _was_ their Alpha. He didn’t need to get defensive or aggressive.

He leaned on his pack just as much as his pack leaned on him, and there was balance in that. There was trust and honesty and everything strong that kept their pack bonds growing, even through long distances and months at a time of not being able to be in each other’s presence. So Derek didn’t need to worry about Stiles, or any of them, having second thoughts about the pack. Because pack was pack and that was that. No further discussion needed.

The change room door opened, pulling Stiles out of his thoughts, and Derek was dressed into his own clothes again with the shirt folded over his arm. “You getting it?” Stiles asked as he walked alongside Derek towards the exit of the changing area.

“Might as well. I should wear something nice to Lydia and Jackson’s New Year’s Eve party, right?” As soon as Derek mentioned her name, Lydia came bounding through the front doors of the store with Allison linked at her arm.

“You two ready to go yet?” Lydia asked in a singsong voice as she approached. She wrapped her arm around Stiles’s hips and pulled him off balance, almost enough that he knocked all three of them down. Derek hastily caught Stiles’s arm to steady him, shaking his head and smirking, clearly amused that Stiles still had the co-ordination of Bambi.

“Yeah, I just need to pay and then we can head out.” Derek answered, motioning to the shirt in his hand. Lydia eyed it, tilting her head to the side.

“Glad to see you’re moving away from black.” She nudged him with her elbow. He rolled his eyes but he couldn’t mask the smile that was threateningly close to giving Lydia something to _really_ tease him about. She turned to Stiles with an expectant look on her face. He frowned and shrugged, silently communicating to her that he had no idea what she was waiting for. She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and sighed. “I’m sure you look very handsome in it,” She was saying it to Derek but her eyes were locked onto Stiles.

He felt his face heat. “Yeah, he does.” He knew that there was so much more he could say on the subject, that Lydia wanted him to expand and probably to start counting the ways that he loved Derek, but _nope_. Not going to happen. He glanced over at Derek to see a strange look on the dude’s face. Like he’d been expecting more too. Sometimes Stiles wondered if Derek secretly liked to be showered in compliments and just pretended to brood about it.

Lydia was glaring at Stiles, her arms crossed and her green eyes sharp with irritation. After Derek paid they left the store and abruptly Lydia stopped and turned to face all of them.

“Derek and I are going to hit a few more stores that _you two_ aren’t allowed to see.” Lydia said, pointing at both Stiles and Allison. Stiles let out a small breath of relief. This gave him and Allison time to get their own presents for Lydia and Derek. Stiles already had something bought and wrapped waiting at home for Lydia, but he was still looking for something to buy for Derek. It wasn’t like he could buy the dude just anything, everything he wanted he probably had already bought with his seemingly endless reserve of cash.

On top of that, Derek didn’t really _like_ things. He never hinted at secretly wanting anything – not an electronic, not any hiking gear, not a single thing. In Christmases past Stiles just got the guy gag gifts, but for some reason Stiles felt it was time to actually put some thought into Derek’s present. No more paying Mrs. Mooney from down the road to knit him the ugliest Christmas sweater the world has ever seen. No getting Derek the special edition of The Notebook (a movie that Stiles _knew_ Derek absolutely _abhorred_ ). It was time to give Derek something he actually wanted.

The trouble was figuring out what that would be.

“Hey, did you get your present for Derek yet?” Stiles asked as they made their way through the mall. Their arms were linked together and anyone who tried to walk through them soon found that Stiles and Allison were not going to move just to accommodate.

“Scott and I are going in on a new steering wheel cover for him, since the last one is sort of old and gross.” She pulled him closer, out of the way of a very determined mall-walker who looked strong enough to beat Stiles out of the way with her walker. “John and Melissa are getting him a new bed set. Isaac got him a new water bottle for hiking, Boyd and Erica are giving him a new leather jacket, and I think Danny bought him some new tools for the shop.” Stiles nearly kicked himself.

“You guys took all the good stuff! What the hell am I supposed to get for him?” It was going to be impossible.

“I don’t know, I really liked that sweater you bought him last year.” Allison was giggling, obviously revisiting the memory of seeing Derek try the ugly thing on because the whole pack had gotten on his back about it as soon as they saw him pull the thing out of the poorly wrapped box. The sheer look of _confusion_ and _horror_ on Derek’s face had been priceless. The sweater looked bulky, hiding all of Derek’s muscles, which must’ve just been horrifying for the poor Alpha.

Stiles steered them towards Target, hoping a wide variety of things would help him find _something_. “I can’t keep giving him crap gifts that he doesn’t even like.” He ran his fingers through his hair, scratching at his head absentmindedly. “I wanna get him something nice.” They walked through the entrance and instantly Stiles was regretting going in there. It was packed full of shoppers, even more so than the rest of the mall.

Allison glanced at Stiles from the corner of her eyes. “What’s the big deal about Derek’s present this year?” She asked, smiling innocently when he snapped to attention, a nervous frown betraying him.

If she was prying for Lydia, Stiles was in trouble. She and Allison together were only mischief and bad news if you were on the opposite end of it. If she was asking, purely out of curiosity, Stiles still didn’t really know how to respond. There wasn’t anything to tell, as far as he was concerned, but if he said anything at all on the subject of Derek, it would get back to Lydia and then he’d never hear the end of it.

In any case Stiles mentally kicked himself for sounding _way_ too eager about shopping for Derek.

“It’s not a _big_ deal.” Stiles replied, unable to come up with any proper excuses. He shouldn’t be stressing about it. He didn’t want to. There was no point. He could grab a pair of mittens and give them to Derek. He could get a gift card, or another ugly sweater. It really didn’t matter.

But for some reason _it did_.

“You’ve just never really cared before. For someone who always gives Derek gag gifts, it’s just a little out of character for you.” She arched her eyebrow and that was a clear sign she wasn’t about to take another bullshit excuse. She wanted the dirt. The good stuff. The kind of explanation that she could dissect and analyze and twist it in a way that she could use it to _torment_ him for the rest of his natural life.

Stiles grabbed the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a big ol’ package of tampons. How had they ended up in the feminine hygiene section? “What, so I should buy him some of these?” Allison laughed, grabbing the box out of his hands so she could put it back. “I mean, it does seem like he PMS’s almost 24/7 but…” Allison started dragging him away. “Alright, I guess it’s only once a month, every full moon. But seriously. They’d probably help contain all that blood he leaks out every time he gets his ass handed to him. You’d think with all the muscles and stuff he’d be a little better at defending himself.”

“No, no, no, no! Don’t even try to hide behind jokes, Stiles. Lydia told me you like Derek, and Lydia is always right. So no more denying. Besides, I caught you cuddling in bed yesterday, I think we’re passed the denial phase.” Stiles decided it would be okay if he shrivelled up into a ball and died right then and there. If Lydia had told Allison, then Allison had told Scott and if Scott knew then everybody knew. Including Stiles’s father. And probably Derek.

That was just fucking perfect.

“Of course she did. Remind me why I tell her anything at all?” Stiles grumbled, picking up a small duck stuffed animal so he could have something to fiddle with in his hands.

“Because she’d find out anyways.” Allison answered. And it was true. Goddamn Lydia and her brilliance, using it for her own amusement and evil plans of butting her nose into everyone’s business. Mostly Stiles’s.

They walked on in silence for a couple of minutes, Allison waiting for Stiles to speak up about his feelings, _ugh_ , and Stiles hoping she’d just forget about it all and change the subject to anything other than Derek.

“Okay.” She finally said, stopping him and turning him to face her. “I’m not about to force you into talking about it. I know how terrible that can be if you’re not ready. So, all I’m going to say is that if you want to get him a gift that he’ll really like, pick up a couple of Jane Austen books.” Stiles let out a snort of a laugh but after a moment he looked over at Allison and saw the serious look on her face. She hadn’t been joking.

“Jane Austen. Really?” The idea of Derek reading old Victorian era books just seemed… well, hilarious. And so fucking _endearing_. Derek with a book in his hands, curled up by the fireplace, lost in the pages, smiling to himself, laughing, because he’s so enraptured by the stories and the characters… That was an image Stiles never knew he’d ever want to see. But he did want to see. He wanted to be there for when it happened. Catch a glimpse of Derek completely unguarded, absorbed in another world so fully that he didn’t remember to worry about keeping up a front.

“Yeah, he’s asked me about her a couple of times. He seems interested but a little unwilling to actually go out and get them for himself. Don’t know why.” She shrugged and they rounded the corner and entered the last aisle of the section they were in. Stiles immediately narrowed in on probably one of the best things he’d ever seen. Stiles reached down and exchanged the duck for a medium-sized wolf plushie. It didn’t look overly tacky, the fur actually came pretty close to resembling that of an actual wolf’s; shades of brown and dark grey all mixed together.

It was soft and perfect and adorable. Totally not something that should ever be bought and owned by a full grown man in his twenties.

He was _so_ buying it for Derek.

“I think this might’ve won it. I know Derek’s just _dying_ on the inside without this in his life.” Stiles said, waving it close to Allison’s face so the fur tickled her nose. This was sort of a gag gift, right? After all the wolf and dog jokes it seemed fitting that Derek owned _at least_ one stuffed animal canine. “We’ll call it Fluffy.” She batted it away, giggling and rolling her eyes.

“You’re not fooling anyone Stilinski.” She smirked at him and started towards the check-out lines. Stiles stood there for a moment, debating whether or not he’d still get a couple books for Derek. At the very least, Pride and Prejudice. If he did he’d have to deal with a smirking Allison and Lydia, which was something he wasn’t sure he could survive. And maybe Derek didn’t actually care about Austen at all.

He sighed and followed after Allison, hoping the rest of the pack wouldn’t worry about him or his feelings. He knew for a fact – okay, maybe not a _fact_ , but the chances he was right were definitely high – whatever he felt for Derek, it was all one-sided. And that would probably never change. He’d spent years drooling after Lydia; he wouldn’t spend several more pining after Derek. He respected himself too much now to dwell on false hope. Besides, he’d rather just skip to the part where he and Derek turn out to be really great friends, like how it turned out with Lydia. That was better than pining anyways.

In the end they were all still a pack; all still friends. Stiles could ignore his feelings if it meant that the pack remained how it was now; strong and balanced. A force to be reckoned with.

After he paid for the wolf and made sure it was fully hidden by the Target’s plastic bag, he and Allison met back up with the other two who had a couple new bags of their own. Stiles ignored the way Lydia watched him like a hawk every time he talked to Derek, or teased him, or playfully nudged him. Things would continue on as they always had, nothing would change. They said their goodbyes when they all parted ways, hugging each other in turn. Stiles didn’t watch Derek climb in to his Camaro and drive away.

If, when Stiles got home that night, he pulled out the wolf stuffed animal and held it close while he slept, well, that was only because it was soft and warm. Not because he knew that Derek would have it soon, that maybe Stiles’s scent would rub off and Derek would smell it and for at least a small moment think of Stiles. In fact, Stiles’s resolute grip on the wolf’s fur had nothing to do with Derek at all. _At all_.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

Lydia was planning something. Derek wasn’t entirely sure what that something was, but it was _something_ , and something with Lydia usually meant disaster for anyone who got in her way.

She’d been relatively quiet as they walked through the mall, which wasn’t entirely uncharacteristic but it was worrisome. Quiet meant scheming. Scheming was _something_. Yeah. Derek might be sleeping with one eye open while she was in town.

“What are you planning on buying Stiles?” She asked, finally breaking her silent contemplation. She had just finished purchasing a pair of light grey Hollister sweat pants, apparently something Jackson sorely needed since his last pair had stains and holes and Lydia couldn’t stand the idea of him wearing them, sitting on _her_ couch during their next movie night. Derek tried not to feel so bothered about that, not being able to be there for the two of them and Stiles. Separation from any pack member was terrible, but three all at once was like the worst sort of prolonged torture.

At first it wasn’t too bad, since he had the others still to look after, kept him nice and busy. As time wore on though, things started to settle down in Beacon Hills. With each and every passing day his pack needed him less and less, which didn’t mean they didn’t _want_ him anymore, it just meant they had their own lives to live now, and weren’t in constant threat of being hunted down and killed. They were safe. Beacon Hills was safe.

Everyone else was close enough by that he could always visit them and check in. But Lydia, Jackson, and Stiles were not in Beacon Hills.

“Does he need anything? Money? Socks? Something for his laptop?” Derek had tried to put some thought into every gift he got for the pack but he always ended up getting necessities. Stuff that they really needed to keep them going. Sometimes it was money, sometimes clothing, and sometimes it was a night out to get away from the stressful part of _life_ and _school_ and _working_ and _werewolves_. Whatever it was Derek tried his best to be there for them.

Lydia pursed her lips, like she’d just tasted something sour. “Yeah, which he can get from his dad or Melissa.” She sounded disgusted by the mere thought of him getting Stiles something like that, “God Derek, don’t you have an imagination?” Derek would’ve been offended if he hadn’t known Lydia for such a long time. He knew her now though, all stubborn determination and calculation. There was no wonder to why Stiles had chosen her, not only to give his heart to in the beginning, but now to be his best friend.

Derek sighed, “Well if you’ve got any better ideas I’m more than open to hearing them.” He waited patiently for her to stop glaring at him with disappointment.

“My idea, Derek, is that you use those heightened werewolf senses of yours, and if it isn’t too challenging a part of your _brain_ , to come up with an actual, sentimental gift for Stiles. Something beyond _socks_.” Derek thought socks were actually a really good gift. No one had too many socks. And they always ripped or disappeared. Socks were awesome. Especially ones that were tacky with caricatures of reindeers. Very festive. Stiles was sure to _hate_ them, and he’d pretend to love them just so Derek wouldn’t get the satisfaction.

A fond smile crossed Derek’s lips as he picked the pair of socks off their rack and felt the scratchy, woolly fabric. Oh yes. Perfect present for Stiles. As soon as he looked back up he met with Lydia’s irritated glower of disapproval.

With a sigh he placed the socks back and rubbed at the nape of his neck for a long moment to alleviate the sudden pressure he felt. “I don’t know Lydia, it’s not like he’s planning on anything more than what he got me last year. And the year before that.” He still shuddered at the embarrassment of having to wear that ugly thing. But he had, and it put a smile on all their faces, Stiles’s especially. So really it had been worth the ten seconds of emotional stress.

Lydia clicked her tongue and gave Derek a sly grin, which usually meant she knew something he didn’t. “And that means you have to stoop to his level? Really Derek, I expected a little more from my respected Alpha.” She quirked her eyebrow, taunting him. He knew exactly what she was trying to do, but he also didn’t see any way out of this other than to just agree with her.

“Fine! Fine, alright. I’ll get him…” Derek trailed off, his hand thoughtfully scratching as his chin as he attempted to push his brain into overdrive. He _could_ think of something. They still had time, at least half an hour before they had to meet back up with the other two. “What did you get him?” If anyone knew Stiles, it was her. They’d apparently been spending almost every waking moment together since they moved to Berkeley.

“Lord of the Rings box set, all three extended versions. He’s going to bow down and kiss my feet.” She looked so completely satisfied with herself. Derek held back the urge to roll his eyes.

“Well I guess nothing I can get for him would ever top that, so why should I even try?” He asked drily. He was better off getting Stiles something the younger guy would be expecting from Derek, like an equally as ridiculous sweater to get even for last year’s debacle.

Lydia held no restrictions against eye rolling. “Try not to be so pessimistic. I’m sure anything _you_ get Stiles, he’ll love. _Especially_ if it’s not juvenile.” She grabbed Derek’s hand and started leading him out of the store. “Aim for something _sentimental_.” Derek had no idea what that meant. And even thinking about showing sentiment towards Stiles was just… laughable. Their relationship was more inside the bounds of playful banter and wistful aggravation. Stiles was basically the comic relief to Derek’s sour wolf, and they were good like that. It worked for them.

“So I should get him a dozen roses?” Derek joked, but as soon as Lydia had a thoughtful look on her face and nodded, he came to a dead stop. “Are you relapsing? Going insane again? Because I can drive you over to Deaton’s.” Derek knew he should’ve been warier of what Lydia was trying to get at, but he’d been hoping her intentions were innocent. She slapped his arm as retaliation against his reference to her semi-psychotic days when she brought Peter back from the dead.

“Don’t even pretend like you’re completely ignorant to Stiles’s feelings. You’re aware, you observe. You’d have to be oblivious and blind not to realise the way he acts around you.” Lydia said, giving Derek a pointed look. His brain disconnected for a moment, his feet stumbling over themselves as they walked.

Obviously Derek had noticed the slight spike in the scent of arousal from Stiles, it was kinda hard not to notice when it happened practically every time the guy looked at him. Arousal didn’t necessarily mean _feelings_ though. A lot of people reacted the same way to Derek. He kept himself fit, and on top of that knew that he’d been blessed with good genetics from his parents.

So, arousal wasn’t really a big deal anymore. Actual _feelings_ though, well, those were important. If Lydia was right and Stiles liked Derek…

“I honestly don’t think Stiles would ever actually go for me Lydia.” Derek started and Lydia looked about ready to smack him on the side of the head for being an idiot. “Wait! Let me finish!” He dodged away from her first swat and held out his hands to stop her from trying to deliver another one. “If Stiles actually wanted anything with me he’d be the one here right now, telling me all of this. He’s not exactly subtle when it comes to expressing himself with these sorts of things.”

Stiles was the kind of guy who confronted people like _Lydia_ , expressed his feelings without reserve. It was possible Derek was a little more intimidating, but it’d been years since he’d even gotten a whiff of fear from Stiles. If he had feelings for him it just didn’t make sense that he’d keep quiet about it. The guy was an open, chattering book.

Lydia was quiet for a long moment, her usual calculating gaze masking whatever was going on inside her head. “So, if he were to tell you himself, you’d be open to it?” She asked and Derek had to pause for a moment.

He’d never really talked to any of the pack about his preferences, whether he was into girls, guys, or both. His relationships never lasted very long, Lana being only one of many people he’d tried to have something with. They all ended the same way though. Didn’t matter if it was a flirty fling with Mark at Starbucks, or Joan from the book store.

Having _Stiles_ interested in him… he wasn’t sure if it was the greatest idea ever. The pack was in a really good place, not divided like it used to be. There was trust and care, and if one of them was hurt or in danger the rest would be there without question. But if he and Stiles actually had something and then _lost it_ … well, Derek didn’t know how the pack would be affected. And he had a responsibility now, as the Alpha, to ensure that nothing harmed the pack dynamics. That was part of the reason why he never let anyone outside of the pack too close, not unless he was sure they could all handle it.

Lydia crossed her arms and raised an impatient eyebrow at him. He let out a small sigh and scratched at his chin. “What exactly are you asking me here, Lydia?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You know exactly what I’m asking you, you’re just avoiding answering it.” She pulled him by the hand to a nearby bench where she sat him down and towered over him. She leaned in a little close, lowering her voice. “Which way do you swing, Derek?” She asked seriously.

“I appreciate both genders equally.” Derek replied plainly. A devious little smile crossed her lips.

“Excellent.” She said and leaned away from him, pulling out her phone. Derek felt heat rising up his neck.

“Hold on, what are you doing? Are you texting him?” He asked, his heart beating frantically in his chest. Even if Stiles _did_ like him, which hadn’t been proven yet, he didn’t need Lydia commandeering the ship and manipulating everything to work out in whatever favour she was in.

If there was anything with Stiles it would have to happen naturally. Too many relationships had happened where Derek just felt _obligated_ to push things further. Do things that were expected of him. It was just a thing that he’d been programmed to do, ever since Kate.

He didn’t want that anymore. He didn’t want a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, just because people thought he was too lonely, that he needed someone to be intimate with. He wanted to actually _want_ someone. Want to be with them, talk to them, hold them, and share something special. His wolf longed for it; longed for a mate.

He did _like_ Stiles. The guy was always saying something ridiculous, or making a complete fool out of himself. Derek had grown fond of him; attracted to the goofy sort of charm that clumsiness and awkwardness endeared. And, of course, he couldn’t dismiss how _right_ it had felt, holding Stiles in his arms during their nap the day before.

“Relax. I’m texting my fiancé.” She smiled and Derek couldn’t help his own grin. When he found out about Lydia and Jackson’s engagement, he hadn’t been surprised. But it was good to see their relationship flourishing. It reminded Derek that his pack was healthy and moving forward together. The bonds were all getting stronger, even if they were separated by miles of land. When she looked up from her phone she nudged Derek. “You figure out what you’re getting Stiles yet?”

He rolled his eyes and stood, turning back towards the direction that they’d been walking from. “Yeah. Those socks were perfect; I don’t know why you didn’t like them.” She rolled her eyes right back and groaned.

“Seriously?” She asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder. He smirked and put his arm around her shoulders.

“Completely serious.” He answered, and when he _did_ buy the reindeer socks for Stiles he ignored the obvious glare he was getting from her. Aggravating Lydia probably wasn’t a very good idea, but it was fun.

So that’s why he didn’t tell her about the _real_ gift he had in mind for Stiles.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Lydia:_ **

**Hey Stiles, are Melissa and your dad decorating for the party tomorrow night?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Uhh, I’m not sure. Does a medium-sized Christmas tree count?**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Seriously? That’s all they’re doing?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**I guess? It’s gonna be the same as it was last year Lyds, just the tree.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Unacceptable. I’ll be over in an hour to work my magic.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**I’m actually afraid right now.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Good.**

And that’s how the Stilinski-McCall residence transformed from a minimalist, modest Christmas setting into an entire Christmas Village in the time span of only a few hours. By the time Lydia hung the last wreath the entire house looked like a perfect replica of a house from Whoville. It literally looked like Santa Claus just threw up everywhere. Melissa loved it, Stiles’s father just liked that it put a smile on Melissa's face, and Stiles was mainly focused on being highly suspicious of the generous number of mistletoes that were hanging in every single doorway.

“What did you end up getting for Derek?” Lydia asked once she finally deemed the house worthy and festive enough for the following day’s festivities. She and Stiles were plopped down on the couch in the living room, the channel switched on to one of the many _Doctor Who_ Christmas specials, the one where Donna was first introduced, which happened to be one of Stiles’s all-time favourites. But Lydia had just asked him a question, one he couldn’t avoid for any longer. Stiles took a deep breath.

He’d known this was coming, the onslaught of questions about Derek and feelings and _eugh_. Stiles just wanted to spike his cocoa with something that had an acceptable percentage of alcohol in it, and then pass out.

“A little stuffed wolfie for all of his cuddling desires.” Stiles said, taking a swig of some very not-alcoholic-at-all (unfortunately) hot cocoa. Lydia pursed her lips and looked straight at him, obviously not exceptionally thrilled.

“You know, I really thought you’d gotten over the whole pulling the girl’s hair to get her attention. Don’t all boys grow out of that once they graduate from high school?” She asked, puckering her lips slightly. Stiles chuckled and shook his head.

“No, actually. We remain in a constant state of immaturity, because that’s the only weapon we have against women’s _insanity_.” He paused as what she said really processed. “Wait a second; did you just associate Derek as being the _little girl_ that I’m pulling the hair of?”

She looked thoughtful for a moment, tilting her head to the side. “Well, he does have some pretty mean mood swings.” Stiles laughed out loud at that. “And his pecs are pretty boob-y.” That had Stiles choking on his sip of hot cocoa. It burned down his throat and left him struggling to inhale properly.

“Oh my god. I am _so_ telling him you think his muscles look like boobs.” Lydia reached over and smashed a pillow against the side of his head. “What the hell Lyds?” He whimpered and quickly removed himself from her area of reach. She put the pillow down but he didn’t trust her not to randomly attack him again.

“If you say anything to him I’ll tell Jackson about how much you cried when you watched Bridge to Terabithia.” She threatened, waving her finger at him. Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t notice the blush in his cheeks.

“Excuse you, I’d like to see him watch that movie and not cry. Children’s movie? Bullshit. That thing left scars on my heart, man.” His hand clenched at his chest as he dramatically flung himself down on the couch, knocking Lydia’s arm and spilling her drink on the cushion.

Lydia rolled her eyes at him and placed her cup down before standing and disappearing into the kitchen. As she re-entered carrying paper towel and wearing a look of utter annoyance, the front door opened and in walked Erica with Boyd following closely behind her.

“'Sup bitches?” Erica greeted them, smiling coyly and sitting directly down in Stiles’s lap, wasting no time before draping her arms around his neck and pecking him on the cheek. Lydia ignored her completely and dabbed at the still damp liquid on the couch.

“Scott here?” Boyd asked, though Stiles was positive he already knew that Scott was up in his room. Boyd hesitated at the stairs though, waiting for someone to answer him.

“Yeah, he’s up in his room with Allison. Better knock before you open the door, he just got his new mattress.” It was safe to say that Santa came early this year, and yeah, Scott and Allison probably came early as well. But Stiles didn’t want to think about that. Nope.

“Maybe I’ll just stay down here with you guys for a while.” Boyd murmured, a slightly horrified expression on his face. Stiles nodded in understanding before turning his attention back on Erica. She was smiling slyly to herself.

“Good idea, sounds like they’re going for a slow build this time.” She winked at Stiles and he groaned because he _so did not need to know that_. There had been certain occasions where he’d been subject to hearing just how intimate Scott and Allison were getting, and he did his best to avoid further scarring at all costs.

Lydia leaned forward and gave Erica a very serious look. “You know I’ve always wondered, is Scott any good at foreplay?” She asked it like it was the most innocent question in the world, like she needed to know just for _research_.

Erica shrugged a little, listening more intently for a few moments before giggling. Stiles really hoped she wasn’t going to answer, and he also really hoped she hadn’t just been intentionally listening in on his bro and Allison because that was just too fucking weird and a breach of privacy.

“He’s a sweet talker, that’s for sure. I think he just called her a _goddess_.” Erica paused and shot a withering glare in Boyd’s direction. He visibly took a breath in, preparing himself for whatever words would follow such a warning look. “Why don’t you ever call _me_ a goddess, Boyd?” Boyd huffed out the held breath and rolled his eyes.

“I should’ve known you’d like that sort of thing, considering your ego.” He replied, shrugging into the wall and raising an eyebrow at her.

“Confidence, my darling. Can do a girl wonders.” She blew him a kiss and he shook his head at her, smirking. Sometimes their banter got old, but Stiles hadn’t heard it since the last time he was in town so he didn’t mind the gooey faces they were making at each other. “That reminds me! I’m bringing the liquid courage for your New Year’s Eve bash. Found a recipe that’s gonna put every single werewolf on their ass.”

Lydia looked intrigued. “Oh? And dare I even ask what the ingredients will be?” Erica’s smile was wide and excited and Stiles was officially afraid.

“Don’t worry, nothing illegal.” She paused and looked between Stiles and Lydia, calculation set deep in her eyes. “Though I highly suggest the humans don’t partake in the consumption. Peter said the last time that happened the kid took a sip and almost fell into a coma.” She shrugged, like it was no big deal.

Lydia chuckled at the expression of complete horror on Stiles’s face. Boyd was grimacing. “Oh! You mean the famous but secret Hale Wolfsbane Mead? Excellent! How’d you manage to get it out of him?” And of course Lydia knew all about the disastrous drink that could induce comas and possible death. Stiles was just thanking whatever gods managed to keep the recipe out of her hands for this long.

“Please tell me it’s nothing like whatever Lydia served at her sweet sixteen birthday party. Anyone I’ve asked about it barely remembers any of that night, and I know for a fact someone must’ve spiked it with like LSD, or something, because we were all trippin’ balls.” He shuddered at the memory of seeing his father drunk, blaming Stiles for what happened to his mother, and he just couldn’t take it. Even now, after almost six years, Stiles still felt his heart ache in his chest.

He had to look away for a moment to the television, hoping no one would see his eyes growing watery.

“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s basically just liquor for werewolves. No hallucinogenic added.” Erica reassured him, and he was sure she must’ve sensed the shift in his scent or his energy or whatever, probably tasted his sadness in the air, because her hand was suddenly on top of his, rubbing soothing circles.

“So, wait, you’ve talked to Peter? I thought he was still with the pack up North?” Lydia sounded a little uneasy. She’d told Stiles all that had happened between her and the former Alpha, starting from the hallucinations of seeing Peter’s younger self (which Lydia ensured Stiles that yes, Peter was an even bigger babe when he was their age, although still manipulative and a tad bit psychotic – if by tad bit she really meant _completely and without a doubt fucking insane_ ) and ending with how he’d gotten her to raise him from the (almost) dead.

They were good now though, since he’d stopped being such a major dick and actually helped Derek’s pack rather than trying to kill each one of them off or converting them to into his evil schemes. He spent a while with the pack while Derek needed the help with becoming a stronger, better Alpha, but eventually he sought out one of the only remaining cousins that hadn’t been at the Hale house when it was burnt down.

After that happened most of the remaining relatives had gone into hiding in fear of being hunted down by the Argents. Peter had managed to dig one of them up, a woman named Aria Hale, who was living in Canada in the city of Toronto. Derek had been up there a few times with his uncle, but Peter had been the only one to stay.

According to Derek the people there were too friendly, which may have been true considering how broody Derek always was and how he surrounded himself with angsty teens, but Stiles knew the truth. Derek had a new pack, and a new family. And he loved each and every single one of them no matter how many times he protested or glared at them (especially Stiles), or called them annoying and whiney (especially Stiles), and there was nothing Derek could do or say to convince Stiles of anything otherwise.

“Yeah, he’s still there, living large with the polar bears and penguins.” Erica answered, stealing a sip from Stiles’s hot chocolate.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “They don’t have penguins in Canada, not unless they’re in a zoo. Plenty of alcids though.” She corrected and Erica shrugged her shoulders.

“Whatever. If I want to see alcids I guess now I know where to go.” She said, and her tone was a bit biting. Lydia just sighed and Stiles gave her a pleading look. She pursed her lips and glared openly but managed to hold back whatever retort she’d been planning on saying to no doubt put Erica firmly in her place. “Anyways. He and I just chatted over Skype. As far as I know he won't be visiting us anytime soon, thank god. He’s sending a box full of gifts in the mail for the whole pack though, hopefully it’s not just a whole thing full of maple syrup or something.”

Last year Peter had been down for Christmas and he handed Stiles one single maple leaf and said nothing. A _fricking_ leaf. Stiles was all for agreeing that _it’s the thought that counts_ , but the thing still had dirt on it. And it was ripped. Stiles was pretty sure Peter had picked it up off the ground and chuckled at his _brilliant_ idea to give the thing to Stiles, probably as a joke, but with Peter sometimes you couldn’t really tell when he was being serious or not because every word that came out of his mouth was oozing with sass.

Safe to say Stiles wasn’t exactly holding out for anything more spectacular than a jar of dirt this year. And not even one with Davey Jones’s heart inside of it.

“I’d take syrup over a necklace any day.” Lydia said and hid half of her face behind her mug before Erica could look over and give her a quizzical look. Peter sent Lydia a beautiful golden necklace for her birthday, a ruby set at its center. Stiles was sure it was Peter’s way of trying to make up for all that he’d put her through, but years of torment and detachment hadn’t exactly graced Peter with exceptional people skills. Sure he may have had charm, but most serial killers were described as being charismatic.

His unusual gifts only made Lydia uncomfortable; she stuffed them away into the depths of her jewelry box, hoping to never have to see them again.

Erica laughed out loud, completely unaware of Lydia’s dilemma. “I’ve seen that engagement ring; you can’t fool me Ms. Lydia Martin. I suppose a gaudy necklace wouldn’t be _regal_ enough for a princess like you.” Erica was teasing, it was how she talked to everyone since becoming a badass werewolf, but sometimes she overstepped boundaries she didn’t realize were there. And sometimes she knew they were there but didn’t give a damn.

Lydia stood abruptly, setting her mug down with a loud _clunk_ onto the chestnut end table. “You know what? I think it’s time for me to head out.” Lydia was very good at keeping her emotions in check, which was why she only sounded _slightly_ irritated with Erica instead of absolutely fuming, which Stiles knew she was underneath her clever little mask. “I’ll see you all tomorrow. Text you later Stiles.” She walked over and gave Stiles a quick peck on the cheek before waving over her shoulder at both Erica and Boyd as she left and slammed the door shut behind her.

“What’s her problem?” Erica asked, jumping out of Stiles’s lap and into the open space beside him. Boyd walked around the couch too, joining them by sitting down in the lone chair usually reserved for the sheriff.

Stiles knew Lydia wouldn’t want everyone to know how she felt about Peter; it’d make the whole situation awkward when, and if, he ever came back into town. “She’s just stressed about, y’know, the wedding.” Stiles said, which wasn’t a lie, just a half-truth. He’d gotten really good at those since he’d taken up with a bunch of super-hearing werewolves.

“I don’t envy her. My aunt’s wedding was a complete disaster because a bunch of my uncles got smashed and decided that the DJ wasn’t doing his job, so they hijacked the booth and started playing Michael Jackson’s _Thriller_ for almost half an hour straight. She spent two years planning the perfect night and in the end she wasn’t really _thrilled_ with the outcome.” She held up her hand and Stiles gave her a high five for the use of pun.

“Yeah, but Lydia can afford a wedding planner and Jackson won’t want to invite your uncles to his wedding, so I think they’ll be safe.” Boyd said and Stiles scoffed.

“You think Lydia will actually hire a wedding planner? Dude. We’re talking about the girl who single-handedly took over the prom committee and co-ordinated the _entire_ event. She’s not going to let anyone near this thing, probably not even Jackson.” Stiles tried to imagine her handing over her entire wedding to a planner and just couldn’t do it. Not without picturing the planner screwing _something_ up and having Lydia fire them with a snap of her fingers. When she got determined there was no getting in her way.

Especially when it was her _wedding_.

On the drive home Stiles had been witness to Jackson trying to shoot down her idea of riding away in a horse and chariot, and it was safe to say they wouldn’t be revisiting that little disagreement, not if Jackson wanted to have this wedding.

“Do they know when they’re actually going to tie the knot?” Erica asked and reached for the remote of the television.

“No, not really. As soon as possible, hopefully. What are you doing?” He asked when the volume on the television increased until he was flinching. Erica motioned towards the ceiling.

“When Allison gets close she gets really loud, and Scott sounds like a cow when he climaxes.” She shrugged and sank back into the couch. Stiles whimpered and buried his face into the nearest pillow.

“I didn’t need to know that!” He whined, sincerely hoping the television would actually drown all of that out. Erica shot him a dirty look.

“If I have to suffer then so do you.” Stiles sighed and looked up at the television. It was the scene where the Doctor and Donna were meeting the Empress of the Racnoss for the first time, which was the beginning of his favourite part of the movie, so he was intent on watching it instead of dwelling on the information he was just given.

The three of them lasted a solid twenty minutes in somewhat strained silence, though Stiles could never be completely silent when he was watching Doctor Who, cheering at the television and making comments, but suddenly Boyd let out a breath and peered up at the ceiling. “ _Finally_.” He muttered, and Erica perked up.

“They’re done?” She asked hopefully, and it was really weird that Boyd knew, which meant he’d been the one listening in. He nodded and she smiled with relief before reaching over and turning the volume back down so it was more background noise than anything else.

“I’ll give them a few more minutes before I head up.” Boyd said, a little more loudly than usual. Allison was waltzing down the stairs a couple minutes later, her cheeks still a little red and her eyes bright.

“Hey guys!” She said before disappearing into the kitchen. Erica leaned over towards Stiles.

“I’d be thirsty after that too.” She winked and Stiles let out a groan.

“Can you please not?” Everyone needed to stop talking about how his brother was getting laid and _how_ it was being done and just _no_. _Nope_. No more.

Boyd vanished up the stairs before Allison re-entered carrying a big glass of water and a couple of Melissa’s famous chocolate chip cookies. “What are we watching?” She asked and plopped herself down.

“Christmas Special, Doctor Who.” Stiles answered. She jumped to attention and peered over just as the credits began to roll.

“Aww, I missed it? Which one was it? Have I seen it?” She’d only just recently begun to watch, per Stiles’s recommendations, but last he’d heard she still hadn’t made it through the ninth Doctor. Erica frowned, raising a questioning eyebrow at Allison.

“Wait a second, you watch this?” She paused, but before Allison could answer Erica sharply turned to Stiles with an accusing look. “You turned her onto it, didn’t you?” It was a rhetorical question, Stiles was sure. Of course it had been him. No one else in the pack had shown any interest in it but that was because they were _Americans_. All addicted to their _Gossip Girl_ and _Grey’s Anatomy_ (which Stiles was not knocking because he admitted to finding both of those shows deliciously dramatic, but the others were always just too busy for Doctor Who and _Sherlock_ and _Merlin_ and they were just missing out).

“It’s so good! I just finished the episode where Rose and the Doctor kissed for the first time on _New Earth_.” She squealed a little at that, fidgeting in her seat. “I can’t believe they kissed! Well, I know it was really Cassandra in Rose’s body, but _still_!” Stiles couldn’t wait to share the theories about how Rose and the Doctor totally sexed it up between then and the next episode, but she’d have to watch the episode before he could make any comments and let Allison come to her own conclusions.

Erica looked completely uninterested, picking at her nails and waiting for them to finish. “I totally freaked. Doctor Rose all the way man.” Stiles smiled and then turned to Erica. “So what else did dear, sweet Uncle Peter say on your Skype date? Does he miss me?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and both the girls giggled at him.

“He didn’t say a single word about you, sorry love.” Erica answered. Stiles made a dramatically sad face and she reached out to mockingly pat his cheek. “Aww muffin, you’ll get over it. Besides, why worry about what he has to say about you when you’ve got his nephew much closer by and much more available?” Stiles recoiled from her touch.

There was no way they told her. How could they? No, seriously, how _could_ they? Allison and Lydia had no right, none at all. “What?” Stiles asked sharply, shooting a glance in Allison’s direction.

Erica rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “Don’t even try it Stilinski. I can hear your heartbeat. I can smell your arousal spike. I sense every shiver that crawls down your spine when you catch him looking in your direction. And I know you’re completely ignorant to the fact that he’s got it _way_ bad for you, too. So, this is me, enlightening you, and if you don’t do something about it I’ll just tell Derek and hope he’s smarter than you.”

Stiles swallowed. Both of them were looking at him like he was missing something very obvious, like they expected him to jump right out of his seat and hightail it over to Derek’s house and profess his feelings, like it was that easy. But it wasn’t. “Why aren’t you telling him then? It’s not like I’m the one who’s closed off and shoving my feelings behind a huge, impenetrable wall. I’m wide open dude. If he likes me then he’ll just have to tell me himself. There’s no way I’m gonna make an ass out of myself, or jeopardize our friendship.”

It really didn’t have anything to do with the fact that Derek was Alpha, or that Stiles wasn’t one hundred percent sure which way Derek opted in on the whole sexuality scale. Mostly Stiles just didn’t want to be rejected, and to have it be done by someone who he really trusted and considered to be one of his best friends, well, he wasn’t sure if he’d make it out unscathed. He wasn’t thinking far enough to weigh the possibilities of how it would affect the pack or their friendship in the long run, if the relationship went sour. If he let himself think that far ahead he’d refuse the idea altogether.

When you’re friends with someone and you decide to take that step into an intimate relationship the only thing that really changes, or at least _should_ change, is how physical you are with one another. Sure, Stiles really liked the idea of kissing Derek and holding Derek and waking up next to Derek, but he could survive without all of that. If it meant that he was sure they’d still be friends at the end of the day, their bonds in no danger of being damaged by the potential of a bitter break up. Or maybe them falling apart was an eventuality.

Stiles sighed.

“If you don’t tell _him_ he won’t tell _you_ because he’s just as stubborn and just as _oblivious_ ,” Allison chimed in, “he even told Lydia yesterday that-,” but Stiles wouldn’t listen to anything more because his cheeks were on fire and his ears were burning. He literally felt like he was about to throw up.

“Oh my _god_. Lydia talked to him? Are you kidding me?” He paused for a moment, letting himself calm down. When he didn’t feel so embarrassed and uncomfortable he finally met Allison’s worried gaze. “Okay, what’d he say?” He asked weakly and Allison smiled at him. Erica leaned in closer, apparently wanting to hear this juicy information too. Probably to hold it against Derek in the near future, or Stiles. Or both of them.

“Well, it’s more what he didn’t say.” Allison looked contemplative for a moment, trying to figure out how to continue, what the best way to phrase it was. This didn’t exactly sound promising. “She asked if he’d be open to being with you and he just said that if you _did_ like him then you wouldn’t be subtle about it. That you’d tell him yourself.” Stiles scoffed, standing up from his chair and shaking his head.

“That’s not even an answer.” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Look, I appreciate you guys trying to… what? Hook us up? Make us happy? Honestly, I don’t know because I’m perfectly content with how things are right now, so I don’t see the point in all of this meddling. So, instead of being hassled to get it in with our Alpha, I’m gonna head up to my bedroom and pretend like we didn’t have this conversation.” Erica opened up her mouth to protest but Stiles interrupted her. “No, no, no. Goodnight. I hope you both have a pleasant evening. I will see you tomorrow, where you will say nothing about this to either me or Derek, got it?” He asked.

Reluctantly they nodded.

“Yes sir.” Erica mockingly saluted him and he turned away before he lost his temper on her, because really she hadn’t actually done anything wrong except call him out on his feelings and shit. Still, it wasn’t until he was all the way up the stairs and they were out of his sight that his anger began to fade into inner frustrations. He passed Boyd and Scott in the hallway and gave them a slight nod, hoping they weren’t looking for him to hang out or something because he seriously needed some time to himself.

“Hey bro, we were heading out to do a little training at the Hale house, you wanna come chill? Derek said he’ll be there in an hour or so, and then we can head over to his apartment and watch a movie or something.” Scott rested his hand on Stiles’s shoulder to start turning him back in the direction of the staircase, but Stiles shrugged him off.

“Sorry, not feeling well. You guys have fun though. Kill a rabbit for me.” He taunted and as expected Scott playfully shoved the back of his head. “Rude.”

“Whatever you big wuss. Tell mom I’ll be home for dinner, Allison too.” Scott ducked away and Boyd nodded his goodbye before leaving Stiles alone in the hallway. He stood there silently, listening to his pack teasing and laughing as they left. When the door shut, Stiles slipped into his room and barred himself inside, shoving his head under his pillow.

He slipped his phone out of his pocket and only peeked out from under his hiding place long enough to shoot Lydia a text message. He hoped she’d be staying in tonight as well, away from Allison and Erica and whoever else had decided they were going to hijack Stiles’s love life.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

**_Stiles:_ **

**I can’t believe you talked to Derek about me. >:(**

Lydia rolled her eyes at her phone, knowing that even though Stiles couldn’t see her, he still knew how unimpressed she was by his pouting.

**_Lydia:_ **

**Oh sweetie, you actually thought I wouldn’t?**

Lydia loved Stiles dearly, he was like a brother to her, but sometimes he was an idiot. He and Derek had been dancing around each other practically since the day they’d met, although obviously it hadn’t exactly been love at first sight, but that idea was just a combination of lonely hopeless romantics reassuring themselves that one day they’d find love as easily as that, and the media’s way of indoctrinating young teens to think that their hormones are actually something of a deeper substance so they can spend all their money on romance movies and think that their entire worlds revolve around finding the love of their life, settling down, and having babies. Lots and lots of babies.

Lydia wasn’t like that though. She admitted to loving the Notebook, and finding the idea of true love to be fascinating and wonderful, but she’d never been the sort of girl who thought that who she was, was built on who she would end up with.

She understood that in the present day and age it was still more socially acceptable for her to settle down with a man of means, but she also knew that women were becoming more independent. Women had always been behind closed doors, whispering into the ears of their husbands, making decisions and calls behind the curtain, and she played it that way sometimes, but she was finding it more and more enjoyable to be on the front lines.

Which is why she had to do this for Stiles.

**_Stiles:  
_ **

**Come on Lyds, you can’t just corner the guy and force him to answer intrusive questions.**

**Lydia:**

**And why do you think I had to force him?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Like he’d ever answer willingly.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Well, he did. And I found out a little something you might be interested to know.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**… What?**

**_Lydia:_ **

**I’m sorry, but I don’t remember you asking politely.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Just tell me! Damnit woman!**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Still not politely…**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Ugh! You’re ridiculous! Fine. Lydia my glorious, wonderful, exquisite friend, will you please tell me what I’d like to know.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**What would you like to know?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Idk! You tell me! You’re the one telling me I’d be interested in whatever he said!**

**_Lydia:_ **

**I asked him what team he played for.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**…………………… AND?!**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Sorry, Allison wanted to know if I was texting you, and to ask you why you aren’t here with us at Derek’s. This is no way to convince Derek that you like him.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Lydia, I swear to god if you say ANYTHING to him I will switch your shampoo with green hair dye.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Nice try, your threats don’t work here.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**You’re doing this on purpose. Just tell me what his answer was!**

**_Lydia:_ **

**If you really want to know why don’t you ask him yourself?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Because you already did it for me.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**If you come over here right now I’ll tell you.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**I’m busy.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Doing what?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Buying hair dye.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**You’re such a child.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**I know you are but what am I?**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Seriously?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Fuck off and just tell me!**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Fine, since you put that so eloquently. Derek told me he doesn’t care what’s down below, so as long as you know how to use yours you should be fine.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Oh.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, cupcake.**

**_Stiles:_ **

**See ya then. Thanks, Lyds.**

_**Lydia:** _

**Glad to help. ;) Just remember, BEWARE OF MISTLETOES!**


	5. Chapter 5

“Yo, bro! Where you at?” Stiles fumbled with the present he’d been wrapping, tangling the tape up in his fingers and cursing under his breath. Scott stuck his head into Stiles’s bedroom smiling, and Stiles was pretty sure that if Scott had a tail, it’d be wagging. “What’s the holdup man? We’re waiting on you!”

Stiles let out a small huff as he returned his focus back to the most disgraceful display of gift wrapping he’d ever seen in his entire life. He wasn’t sure if it was salvageable or if he should just call it a day and hand the mortifying thing to Derek as it was. Derek probably wouldn’t even be surprised; he was probably expecting this sort of thing from Stiles.

“Mom’s threatening to start without you!” Scott whined, pleading Stiles with his eyes to hurry up and join them all downstairs already. Stiles sighed in defeat and stood from his bed, grabbing the poorly wrapped stuffed animal with him to take downstairs and set under the tree where a hoard of other presents awaited. Stiles scratched at the back of his head before motioning for Scott to lead the way.

As soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs Allison pounced on Scott and dragged him into the living room where the others were waiting. Stiles took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever chaos the evening would bring. A bunch of werewolves crammed into tight quarters usually wasn’t the best idea ever. Last year Melissa’s favourite vase had been the victim of a brutal smashing when Boyd and Isaac were wrestling without really watching what they were doing, and the year before that a picture frame was ruined when Erica pushed Scott into it by accident.

The Stilinski household had a history of accidental breakings (considering Stiles lived there, and even now he was still trying to figure out how his limbs worked) but it managed to be a lot more accident prone nowadays.

"Stiles if you don’t get in here right now I will drag you in by the ear young man!” Melissa hollered and Stiles immediately obeyed. She’d threatened him with that before and he hadn’t believed she’d actually go through with it, but he found out very soon that she _would_ and most definitely _did_. From that point on he learned to take her threats seriously.

As he entered the room a body was flung onto him and he was crushed by an iron grip hug. “Stiles!” Isaac cheered happily and Stiles chuckled, wrapping his arms around the puppy dog werewolf.

“Isaac! Buddy, I’ve missed you! Why haven’t I seen you around until now?” Stiles knew that right now Isaac was sharing a living space with Erica and Boyd while they all attended Sierra, a college only half an hour away from Beacon Hills. Their apartment was half way in between the two so they could easily commute back and forth while still being very present with the pack and Derek.

“Isaac’s got a new girlfriend.” Erica supplied an answer before Isaac could even get a chance. Derek perked right up from his seat on the floor in the corner of the room. Isaac detached himself from Stiles and turned to glare at Erica.

He opened his mouth to berate her but Derek apparently couldn’t wait for his pups to stop fighting before he started asking questions. “New girlfriend? Did you finally ask out that Tara chick you’re always talking about?” He wanted to sound easy about it, like he didn’t have a problem with Isaac dating outside the pack, but he was trying way too hard to compose himself. Stiles could see the worry and anxiety already creasing Derek’s forehead and the edges of his eyes; his smile was too tight.

Isaac sensed the underlying stress and folded in on himself a little. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, it’s nothing serious.” He shrugged, looking down at his feet. He was blushing and fidgeting and Stiles totally wanted to poke fun and tease but he also knew that he had to have his bro’s back, especially against their broody Alpha.

“Nothing serious?” Erica scoffed and the blush in Isaac’s cheeks deepened. “I’m pretty sure spending last night at her place qualifies as serious.” That wasn’t necessarily true. Stiles had participated in a couple of his own one night stands. University and clubbing and drinking tended to create a really easy atmosphere for that kind of thing, and in truth it was _exciting_. It had been really helpful for Stiles, actually, during his first few months of curiosity towards his own gender. He needed to know if his feelings were having an effect on his preferences or if he actually liked dick.

Sleeping with a couple faceless guys revealed that yes; he in fact did like sucking cock, thank you very much.

“You spent the night?” Derek asked, and his voice was tense. Melissa started to nervously laugh.

“I’m sure we don’t all need to hear about Isaac’s private love life, okay? Today’s all about having fun and being with each other, so let’s just focus on that.” She said, sternly eyeing Derek. The entire room mumbled in agreement. “Good. Now let’s get started!” She smiled and reached for the closest present under the tree. “First one’s for,” she paused to read the label, “Boyd! And it’s from Scott and Allison.” She passed it over and reached for the next box.

She kept going until everyone had a present of their own, and the whole group would rip their presents open at the exact same time. Chaos would ensue, everyone saying how much they loved their gifts, thanking whoever the giver was, and showing their presents off. It was loud and crowded and hectic, and Stiles absolutely _loved_ it.

He took a seat on the floor next to Danny, nodding his greeting and getting a huge smile in return. “Allison sent me something pretty interesting a couple days back.” There was a small moment that Stiles had no idea what Danny was talking about. It was a blissful moment in ignorance that Stiles would never get back once he deciphered the sly smile playing on Danny’s lips.

He groaned quietly and buried his face in his hands. “It was taken out of context.” Danny just chuckled, shaking his head.

“Whatever you say Stilinski.” Danny said and didn’t stop smirking until someone across the room cleared their throat. Reactively Stiles looked up and instantly felt heat crawling through him at the intensity of Derek’s stare. He felt his smile waver as they locked eyes.

The rest of the room seemed to just melt away, the excitement and laughter all the background noise buzzing at the edges of Stiles’s awareness. He wasn’t sure what was going on inside of Derek’s head, whether or not the contact between them, though not physical, was having the same sort of effect on him. If Lydia and Erica were right then there was definitely something deeper beneath Derek’s gaze, but that could’ve just been the way the shadows were casting over Derek’s face where he sat in the corner.

Stiles would have to worry about that later, because as soon as Melissa tossed Derek his first present their stare was broken, and Stiles was released from the gravitational pull he’d been feeling. He shook it off and decidedly ignored the pointed look he was getting from Lydia, because of course she’d seen the exchange.

The first gift he got to open was from his dad and Melissa. First he pulled out a bag full of socks, then a bottle of his favourite Axe shampoo and conditioner, and lastly a nice, soft, dark grey sweater that he slipped on right away and basked in its fuzzy goodness. They carried on in their controlled chaotic sort of way until there was only one round of presents left to go.

As fate would have it the gift from Derek was resting at Stiles’s feet, and his gift to Derek was sitting in the other man’s lap. Derek already looked perturbed. “Why is it so huge?” He asked, but the thing wasn’t even that big. Stiles suppressed his smile and tore through the wrapping of his final present.

As soon as he saw the creepy reindeer socks staring up at him he just about lost it, laughing out loud so hard and abruptly there was a sharp pain in his stomach. _Finally_ Derek had retaliated. “Aww man! Don’t these match your sweater?” Stiles asked and immediately stripped off his socks and slipped on the new pair. They were warm and scratchy and Stiles was grinning like a mad man but he didn’t care. Any indication of Derek having humour was better than the seriousness he had for just about everything.

Derek was still unwrapping his, delicately pulling at the tape as if trying to preserve the wrapping paper. Stiles rolled his eyes and reached over to tear it open himself. The paper ripped and out spilled the plush wolf, landing on the floor in the middle of the crowded group. Derek just stared at it as some of the others began to giggle.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He grabbed it by the scruff of its neck and shook it aggressively at Stiles. Stiles bit his lower lip to try and keep his smiling down to a minimum, but it broke through anyways.

“It’s for cuddling Derek; I thought you’d like it.” Stiles replied and wiggled his toes in his new socks. Derek’s eyes were drawn by the small movement, but as soon as he looked back up to meet Stiles’s gaze he did not look amused.

“I don’t _cuddle_.” Derek growled but his tough act wasn’t enough to keep Stiles and Allison both from scoffing.

“Sorry Derek, but I have picture proof that the truth is quite the opposite.” She raised an eyebrow at him as she held out her phone, the picture of Stiles and Derek snuggling in bed displayed clearly on the screen. Derek leaned closer and she pulled away. “You are not deleting these.”

Derek’s eyes narrowed. “ _These_? Let me see the other one.” He ordered and Allison only hesitated a moment before obediently submitting. When she held it out again so he could get a look he snatched the phone out of her hand swiftly. She protested, squealing and squirming out of Scott’s lap so she could attempt to save her blackmail, but by the time she managed to stand up Derek was already handing her phone back to her. She made an unhappy noise and plopped back down into Scott’s lap, crossing her arms and pouting.

“Whatever. I’ll just get Lydia to send me her copies later.” She mumbled and Derek closed his eyes, visibly taking a deep breath in.

“Lydia.” He commanded, holding out his hand and opening his eyes to pin her with a stern look. Lydia just winked at him.

“Left my phone at my place,” She shrugged.

“You’re lying.” He was annoyed now, a small twitch in his lips.

“And you’re blushing.” She countered. Derek floundered for a moment, opening his mouth to protest but clicking it shut after a long moment of having nothing at all coming out. He stood abruptly, leaning down to pick up all his now opened Christmas gifts.

“I’ve gotta put these in the car, make some space in here.” He said and just like that he was disappearing out the front door. Stiles was pleased to see that Derek hadn’t left the stuffed animal behind, so at least that was something.

He hadn’t realized he’d been watching Derek’s ass the whole time he was leaving but he caught himself and forced his eyes to refocus back on the other people surrounding him. That’s why he was here anyways, to spend time with everyone, not just Derek, and not just his ass.

Even if it _was_ one of the best butts he’d ever seen.

“Hey Lydia, why’d you put so many mistletoes up? They’re literally in every single doorway.” Scott pointed to the one pinned over the top of the kitchen doorframe to prove his point. Lydia’s eyes flickered to Stiles but he pretended not to notice.

“I love the tradition of it.” She shrugged and smiled. Jackson looked up and caught her eye. Suddenly he was on his feet, hand extended towards her. She tilted her head and took his offered hand tentatively. He pulled her off her seat and led her into the doorway, placing one hand on her cheek and the other playfully curling a strand of hair through his fingers.

He planted a kiss on her, one that had half of the room _awing_ and the rest of them making mocking throw up sounds.

“Alright, so when’s this wedding happening?” Stiles’s father asked when the two finally ended their public display of affection. Lydia looked up at Jackson, her arms still wrapped around his hips and holding him in a tight hug.

“We’re waiting a while before we tie the knot. It’ll be some time after graduation.” Lydia answered and Jackson gave her arm a subtle squeeze.

Melissa nodded. “That’s a good idea. Get school out of the way, secure jobs for yourselves, and _then_ start thinking about throwing a big wedding.” She sounded like she was speaking to Lydia and Jackson but she was looking directly at Scott and Allison. Scott was completely oblivious, but Allison blushed under the gaze.

Lydia looked thoughtful, making a cheery _hmm_ sound. “That’s the plan. Jackson will be making his way up the corporate ladder and I’ll be engineering for one of California’s top labs.” Maybe it sounded a little ambitious, but only those who didn’t know Lydia would ever doubt her level of genius and skill. Stiles had no worries about whether or not her plans would fall through, because when she made a plan it _always_ worked.

Fighting against Lydia was like trying to break through the force of gravity and fly as far away from her and her devious plans as you possibly could. That was probably going to get him into trouble one day, considering her sudden interest in Derek and him.

The front door opened and in walked Derek, a vacant expression smoothing his features. Lydia began tugging Jackson back towards their seats, the only ones available other than the empty space next to Stiles on the floor, and before Derek could claim any of them Lydia and Jackson sat down on the couch, leaving Derek with a slight scowl scrunching his nose.

He let out a heavy breath and without a word crossed the room and seated himself next to Stiles, bumping shoulders and knees as he situated himself. “Dude, can you honestly take up any more space?” And Stiles should learn how to keep his mouth shut because Derek took that as a personal challenge and draped himself over Stiles’s lap. Just to make a point. “Dude!”

Stiles tried to squirm away but not only was Derek made of _pure fucking muscle_ , he was also a werewolf with super strength and again, it was basically like trying to defy gravity.

The rest of the group didn’t react. They kept going on as they were previously, completely ignoring the fact that Stiles’s personal space was being more than invaded; it was being _destroyed_. Derek refused to move and Stiles refused to entertain his dick’s idea of getting a boner. In a room full of family that would be very, _very_ awkward. Too awkward even for Stiles, and that was saying something.

He took a deep breath and focused on keeping his heart beat steady, so that the blood circulation was flowing evenly throughout his body _._ He gave up his squirming and accepted his fate of becoming the Alpha’s personal pillow. It was barely five minutes before Derek let out a huff and sat back up, clearly irked that Stiles stopped reacting. Stiles smiled triumphantly but quickly composed himself when his smile earned him a heated glare from Derek.

The rest of the evening progressed at a steady pace and without much incident. There were a few spills and a couple close calls with the Christmas tree (in which Stiles almost ended up tangled in tree lights; don’t ask him how) but nothing too exciting. He spent the whole night sipping his eggnog and whiskey, which made stuff a little fuzzy, but he was content.

Everyone seemed to make their rounds under the mistletoes (Scott and Allison were literally kissing so much Stiles was afraid he’d have to sew their lips back on for them by the end of the night) except for Stiles. Stiles made a strong effort _not_ to be caught with _anyone_ under one of those things. Especially not a specific Alpha who shall remain unnamed.

Sitting in the living room altogether began to lose its appeal though, in such cramped quarters, and they all had their separate conversations and shenanigans going on. Stiles soon found himself in the kitchen looking to refill his drink. Melissa and Allison were in there already, probably talking about Scott or woman things, _eugh_. Stiles made quick work of pouring his nectar from the gods and began back through to the living room to find Isaac, Danny, and Jackson lounging on the couch. Boyd was sitting alone in the chair, all of them absorbed in whatever discussion they were having.

Stiles’s fairly alcohol soaked mind decided it would be a good idea to try and stumble his way up the stairs to see if he could find Lydia or Scott, or Derek. Preferably Derek. Preferably Derek alone, in Stiles’s bed, _naked_.

Wait.

 _No, no, no, no, nope!_ Stiles shook his head violently, almost colliding with the wall as he did so. He lost his balance, dizziness impairing his ability to remain vertical, and began to feel the unpleasant tingling in his stomach which indicated he was about to fall over.

Before he could hit the floor there was a pair of strong hands wrapping around his arm and hip to steady him. He flailed out, grabbing a hold of the closest thing he could find to try and right himself, and the arm he latched on to just so happened to have the rest of a body attached to it, which was a relief.

Derek looked a little bit too amused. “How much have you had to drink?” He asked and Stiles finally managed to stop swaying. He paused for a moment, having to think about it.

“Not much, but honestly, doesn’t take a lot. Alcohol enhances two aspects of mine: one, my inability to coordinate my body, and two, my gaming. I’m king at CoD when I’m drunk, seriously dude. Just ask Scott. Or Allison.” He paused again. “Actually, ask Allison. She usually beats me, but only if I’m sober.” He looked down at Derek’s hands, both still remained where they had reached out to catch him. “Thanks for saving me by the way. Saw my life flash in front of my eyes there for a second.” He waved his hand in front of his face to demonstrate and almost lost his balance again. The only thing that kept him from wobbling was Derek’s hands, which were _still_ on him.

“Didn’t leave me much choice, you were about to fall into me, Stiles.” Derek raised an eyebrow and kept looking intently at Stiles’s face with this grin that Stiles didn’t know how to interpret just then.

“Okay, well thanks anyways, asshole.” Stiles smirked back. He realized his hands were still on Derek’s arms too, and without really thinking he let them glide downwards until he met where Derek’s hands rested. He grabbed both, lacing their fingers together and ignoring the sudden stiffness of Derek’s entire body. “I gotta give you somethin’.” He tugged them in the direction of his bedroom.

Derek came to a dead halt at the doorway. “Stiles…” He trailed off, his voice low and a little drawn out. His eyes searched Stiles’s face for something, though Stiles wasn’t sure what that something was or what his face was even doing in that moment. He was worried about Derek; why he was acting so weird.

“Dude, relax. I’m not going to molest you or anything.” Stiles frowned and let go of Derek’s hands so he could open his bedroom door. He ventured inside, hoping Derek would follow. The first thing he did, after looking over his shoulder and making sure Derek hadn’t run away or something, was shuffle over to his bedside table and retrieve the small box that he’d gotten Melissa to help him wrap. He fumbled a little in the darkness, a stray thought wondering why he hadn’t flicked on the light, but it was too late now.

He turned and held it out towards Derek, who was still hesitating in the doorway. He waved it around a little, because he’d be damned if he was gonna carry it all the way over there. Derek could come to _him_ for once. “What is it?” Derek asked suspiciously, taking one step into the room.

“Your official Christmas gift.” Stiles explained and Derek frowned. He held up his wrist and squinted through the dim light to see it was officially passed midnight, which meant it was Christmas and therefore an appropriate time to attempt to woo the Alpha.

“What are you talking about? You already gave me the dog.” Derek took a couple more steps, still eyeing Stiles suspiciously. Stiles rolled his eyes and decided he was too impatient to wait for Derek to close the remaining distance. In two strides he was almost chest to chest, close enough that, should he want to risk being disembowelled, he could even lean forward and steal a taste of Derek’s lips against his own.

Instead he shoved the box into Derek’s hands and took a giant step back. “Firstly, it was a _wolf_ not a dog. You should know that better than anyone else wolf-man. Secondly, just open it.” Stiles didn’t understand why the other man was putting up such a fuss about the whole thing. Derek remained still, holding the box out like it was going to bite him. “Please? Open it?” Stiles asked again, this time softer than before.

With a small sigh Derek slowly complied, walking over to the bed and sitting down, placing the box in his lap so he could more easily unwrap it. Stiles stood close by, anxiously awaiting the reveal and Derek’s reaction.

He removed the wrapping paper and lifted the lid of the box, tilting his head a little in confusion. Stiles’s heart felt like it was caught in his throat. He really, _really_ hoped Allison had been right. “These are… books?” Derek said quietly. Stiles swallowed.

“That’s very observant of you.” He teased softly and then had a very heated argument with himself about whether or not he should sit down on his bed, next to Derek, or remain standing there like a potato. He decided to risk it, sitting down a small space away from Derek. He watched as Derek reached into the box and pulled out the first book, _Pride and Prejudice and Zombies_ written by Seth Grahame-Smith, a satire of Jane Austen’s version. “Allison told me you asked her about Austen, so I just thought, I don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe you’d prefer something a little more modern to get you started? It’s a pretty cool version. Lots of slaying things.” He made a slashing motion with his hands.

Derek was still frowning. “Allison told you that?” Stiles felt his face heating up.

“Yeah, well, I mean… Yeah, she did. Was this stupid? Did I just totally mess up? Because I know it wouldn’t be the first time but I wanted to give it a shot-,” he would’ve kept rambling except he was shocked into silence when he felt Derek’s hand patting his knee.

“Relax Stiles, your heart sounds like it’s trying to beat its way out of your ribcage.” But being reminded that Derek could probably smell and hear everything that was happening to Stiles in that particular moment didn’t exactly help calm him down in any way, shape, or form. He wanted to be a mind reader, know exactly what Derek was feeling and thinking, that way it would at least be a little more fair. “It’s not stupid.”

Okay, Stiles could breathe easier now. He smiled, though it wavered a bit, and he nodded. “Cool. So you like it then?” He asked and leaned over to get a better view of the inside of the box. “Oh, there’s also the Austen original version in there, in case you prefer Victorian style writing. Wasn’t sure. We’ve never really talked about this sort of thing.” Why hadn’t they? Why didn’t Stiles know every possible thing there was to know about Derek?

Derek settled the first book back in its place and stared hard at it for a long moment. “Thank you.” He looked like he wanted to say something more, but his shoulders were tense and he was suddenly on his feet and walking towards the door. “I’ll be right back.” He mumbled as he disappeared around the corner.

Stiles sat in the darkness not knowing what to think. Maybe he should’ve just straight out asked what Derek wanted, but it was quite possible he would’ve gotten a humble, “ _Nothing, save your money_.” Either that or some snarky, snide remark that was not helpful at all.

A figure appeared in the doorway and it took a moment for Stiles’s eyes to adjust and recognize who it was. “Hey bro, you okay?” Scott asked, and behind him Stiles could see Allison peeking over his shoulder.

“Yeah it’s all good man.” Stiles tried to give them a reassuring smile but in the darkness it probably looked a little sinister.

Scott shifted uneasily. “Why are you sitting in here all alone with the lights off?” Stiles honestly had no idea how to answer that.

“I was sleeping?” He tried, but he didn’t sound very sure. Scott straightened out a little bit.

“Oh… okay dude, sorry for waking you up. We were just gonna ask if you wanted to go on a walk with us, it’s snowing a little bit outside.” Scott shrugged and began to back away. A walk would be nice right about then, to collect his thoughts and sober him up, not that he was anywhere near the territory of drunk, but he was definitely feeling good.

“Sounds good, just give me a couple minutes and I’ll meet you downstairs.” Derek had told him to stay put so that’s what he was going to do. Unless it was going to take longer than a couple of minutes. Stiles ain’t waiting for no man.

“Sweet! Alright, see you in a few.” Scott replied happily. Stiles tapped his fingers anxiously against his knees, watching as Scott and Allison took their leave. The seconds ticked by with no reappearance from Derek. Stiles was about to give up and assumed he’d just see Derek downstairs when he heard footsteps on the staircase.

Derek entered the room silently, rejoining Stiles on the bed without a word. He held out a small brown paper wrapped thing and nudged it into Stiles’s open hands. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want this, but I brought it just in case.” Stiles didn’t know what to make of that, but he decided he’d deal with it all later.

He ripped away the paper to reveal a very nice leather-bound book with a triskelion inscribed on the cover. Stiles ran his fingers over the symbol, feeling the smooth leather texture under his fingertips. He pulled back the cover to reveal the title _Bestiary vocabulum_ printed on what appeared to be very well-kept vellum. “Shit dude, how old is this thing?” It could’ve been more than a hundred years old considering vellum paper was mostly used in the fifteen hundreds.

“It belonged to my family, it goes back several generations. It has everything we’ve gathered on supernatural creatures, like werewolves and witches, shape shifters, vamps. You name it and there’s at least a footnote in there somewhere about it.” Derek explained, and Stiles really tried to listen to everything, he really did, but he was fanboying so hard he wasn’t sure if he even remembered how to breathe properly without choking.

“No fucking way. This is _the_ Hale bestiary?” He’d heard Peter mention it a few times, even Derek had in passing suggested they look through it for information, but anytime Stiles or Lydia, or Scott that one time, asked for it, both Peter and Derek shut them down. Apparently it was a family secret, only to be viewed by those with the Hale blood. “I thought you said none of us were allowed to see it? _And I’m holding it right now oh my god_!” He couldn’t help the excitement, it was bubbling up inside of him like an erupting volcano.

“I asked Peter about it and we both agreed you’d probably get better use out of it than we would.” Derek smiled, looking pleased with himself. “The only thing is that it’s written in Latin, but you’ve been studying that at Berkeley right?”

“Yeah I took a course on it to help translate some of the texts I came across in my Anthro classes,” he paused, not sure if he should also include the fact that his idea of light-reading nowadays consisted of reading academic journals based on Latin, “and the library at Berkeley is stocked with a lot of material on the subject, so yeah. Safe to say I know enough Latin to translate this baby.” He’d flipped back to the cover to admire the triskele.

Studying Anthro was probably one of the best things ever. He got to learn about the occult and on top of that gather information and knowledge that the pack might need some day. Not all of it was true, Stiles was fairly certain leprechauns did not in fact store their gold in cast iron pots at the end of every rainbow, but some of the other stuff he found was useful, especially when cross-referenced with Deaton’s books as well as the Argent’s bestiary.

With the Hale bestiary in the mix Stiles was going to be the keeper of all knowledge. Okay, well maybe not _all_ of it, but enough of it that he could survive in the supernatural world without being completely defenceless. He was pretty sure that if he couldn’t get a job teaching he’d definitely be able to make a career as a hunter. But not like a crazy, bloodthirsty one like Gerard or Kate; more like Chris, or Sam and Dean (though they were sort of all over the place; Stiles thought maybe the writers of the show had a foot in the supernatural world and had gone completely insane and started not giving a fuck anymore because that would explain a character like Gabriel being introduced).

“Alright, that’s your homework assignment then. Translate it for me so I can have a new book printed out to make it easier for the whole pack to read.” Derek smiled warmly and Stiles never wanted to see that expression fade from Derek’s features.

“Oh great, it’s so like you to give me something and then make me work for it.” He sighed in exasperation and set the book down gently on the bed in between them. “I’m gonna need a little more motivation than that. Maybe I don’t want the rest of the pack to read it. Maybe I want it all to myself.” Derek rolled his eyes, the corner of his lips twitching.

“If you don’t translate it I’ll just take it back and give it to Lydia.” Derek stated, grabbing the book and holding it away as Stiles reached over for it.

“No way! No givesies backsies!” Because yes, Stiles was a five-year-old child. “You gave it to me as a present, it’s officially mine now!” He jumped up to try and snatch it but Derek was quicker. He laid a heavy hand on Stiles’s chest and pushed him down, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed. He tried to get back up but Derek barred his way, trapping Stiles’s legs in between his own and looming over him.

He brought the book closer to Stiles and Stiles darted for it but immediately it was yanked out of range once again. “Say you’ll do it and you can have it back.” Derek waited expectantly but Stiles crossed his arms in defiance. He was going to translate the book, there was no question about it. He was still a little tipsy though, and the fact that Derek was literally pinning him to the bed with just his legs really had Stiles’s brain malfunctioning.

“Hell to the no.” He answered and tried to break free.

Derek’s eyes flashed red in the darkness and his legs pushed up harder against Stiles’s. “No?” He growled, leaning over until he was very much in Stiles’s personal space. So far Stiles had been able to remain within the margins of control, but the moment Derek’s breath ghosted across Stiles’s exposed skin it was like a fire was sparking every nerve in his body to life.

He let out a low _mmm_ without realizing it and Derek rumbled in return. Stiles wasn’t sure what was happening but Derek was leaning closer, his nose trailing along Stiles’s jawline as he nuzzled gently. “Are you sure there’s no way I can persuade you?” Derek asked, his voice husky.

“N-… No?” No he wasn’t sure? No there wasn’t a way? No he wasn’t thinking coherently at the moment because he was now considerably hard and Derek’s leg was bumping against it like it had intentions? Really sexy intentions?

“ _Stiles_.” Derek rasped and rolled his hips, grinding against Stiles’s boner and eliciting a throaty moan from him. He writhed a little underneath Derek, not sure how he was supposed to respond to this. He knew how he _wanted_ to but…

Ah, to hell with it.

Stiles imitated the motion, reaching up and gripping onto Derek’s biceps, creating as much friction as he could between them. Derek was breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide and his irises a deep crimson. Stiles leaned up to the nearest part of Derek he could find, sucking a kiss into his chin. He tasted a little salty and sweet, but overall it was indescribable. All Stiles knew was that he wanted to taste more.

Unfortunately he didn’t get the chance.

“Stiles!” Scott called up and Derek let out a low growl. Hearing Scott shout his name sort of really ruined Stiles’s mood, even if _Derek_ was grinding against him, Stiles’s boner softened a little. He let out an irritated huff as Derek pulled away. “You coming?” Scott hollered again and Derek glared over his shoulder in the direction of the noise.

“Not anymore.” Stiles mumbled under his breath. He rubbed a hand down his face and closed his eyes, trying to get his brain working again. When he opened them the bestiary was being held out right in front of his face. He grabbed it and looked into Derek’s eyes, which were no longer lightened by the red hue but instead hidden by shadows. “Thanks.” He mumbled and put the book down on his bed before standing and adjusting himself as subtly as he could manage.

They stood there in silence, but it wasn’t _that_ uncomfortable, though Stiles anticipated it would be considering they were previously basically dry humping each other. Derek’s eyebrow was cocked, like he was waiting for Stiles to say something, but for once Stiles had no clue what to do or say. “Come on.” Derek said finally, motioning towards the doorway with a nod of his head. Stiles led the way all through the house to the front door where the others were waiting for them.

He avoided the questioning glances cast his way and focused on tying his shoes, hoping the scent of arousal wasn’t too noticeable. Luckily if it was no one said anything, and the only one really interrogating him with their eyes was Lydia. She scrutinized Derek as well, giving them both a once over before looking thoughtful and calculating as she flipped her hair over her shoulder and made her exit out the front door.

Stiles slipped on his jacket and followed after her outside into the chilly weather. Scott hadn’t lied; it was snowing lightly, melting the moment it landed on the ground. There wouldn’t be any epic snow fights _yet_ , but it was still a pretty sight, and early in the season. Hopefully they’d have a massive snow storm before they all had to go their separate ways again, because last year’s snowball war needed to be re-enacted.

They marched along merrily, breaking into random Christmas carols and laughter. They were pretty loud but the street they were walking along was lined with forest on one side and only a few houses on the other.

As they walked Stiles tilted his head back to look up at the sky as the snow drifted delicately down. No stars could be seen, hidden behind tufts of wispy snow clouds, but the flakes that fell were powdery and beautiful, glittering against the dark sky. He took in a deep breath of the crisp winter air and held back a shudder. The best thing about winter walks was getting back to the house and switching on the fireplace, mixing a nice hot mug of cocoa and lounging in the warmth of it all.

They’d walked to the end of the street, which was approximately ten minutes in length, and turned back, ready to return to the house and bury themselves under layers of blankets, when Stiles felt a presence falling into step beside him. He looked over and his heart stuttered in his chest.

“We need to talk.” Derek said quietly, though Stiles was positive the werewolves in the group had all heard it anyways. Scott was the only one who looked over his shoulder with a curious frown on his face.

“I totally agree.” Stiles was a little more sober, but still brazen. If he could be under Derek again within the next half hour he could die a happy man. Derek stopped in his tracks and grabbed the back of Stiles’s coat to pull him back. Scott turned around, still walking backwards but tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“You two are acting really strange.” He observed. Allison reached over and grabbed him on the shoulder, twisting him back around and hissing something into his ear that Stiles didn’t pick up on.

He watched them walk away, leaving the two of them there alone and in the dark and the cold. He took a step closer to Derek, trying to absorb some of the heat that seemed to be radiating off of the werewolf’s body. When he looked over at Derek he found him already staring back at Stiles. There was another silence, one that Stiles wanted to fill with anxious babble but bit his tongue and waited.

“Do you want to know why I asked Allison about Jane Austen?” That was a question Stiles never imagined Derek asking. He nodded and waited patiently for Derek to decide what to say next. There seemed to be a heated argument going on in his head because his eyebrows were literally having a battle of their own. “It’ll probably sound stupid… but Laura really liked that sort of stuff. I don’t know why she did, but I’d like to understand.”

Stiles could appreciate that. There were days where all he wanted to do was listen to his mom’s old record collection, just so he could feel connected to her in some way. Sometimes he’d watch old home videos and remember things about her he’d almost forgotten. It wasn’t pleasant, knowing that there were things that just faded away with time. Scents, what it sounded like to hear her laugh, or see her smile…

“You miss her.” It wasn’t a question. Stiles would’ve been worried if Derek _didn’t_ miss her, or his entire family. Didn’t matter how long it had been since their passing, they would always have a place in his heart, and that was okay.

Derek took a deep breath, fixing Stiles with a heavy gaze. “Yeah. I do. I miss her a lot.” He paused, clearing his throat a bit and adjusting his shoulders so he stood up straighter and looked a little broader. “So thanks for the books. It means a lot to me that… you… well, you…” He trailed off, obviously struggling.

“That I care? No problem dude, that’s what I’m here for.” He smiled, hopefully reassuring Derek at least a little bit. Derek smiled back and nudged Stiles’s shoulder a bit to get him walking again towards the house.

They walked in amiable silence the entire way back until they reached the front porch. The others were already packed away inside, no doubt preparing themselves to fall asleep piled on each other around the fireplace. It was a Christmas tradition of theirs.

“I’d like to speak to you more tomorrow, if that’s alright.” Derek started hesitantly. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Duh.” Stiles smirked and shook his head because Derek was a little bit ridiculous. “I’ll talk to you all night long if that’s what you want, but you’d probably end up ripping my throat out to make me shut up, because I can keep going, and going, and going without ever really taking a breath, which is actually pretty impressive, not a lot of people can-,” Derek grabbed him by the collar and pushed him up against the door, smothering Stiles’s little rant with a bruising kiss.

Stiles’s hands immediately reached for the back of Derek’s neck, pulling them closer and deepening the kiss. The heat from before, in the bedroom, returned tenfold. Stiles experimentally flicked out his tongue to lick at Derek’s lips. Derek’s teeth nipped at it playfully, causing Stiles to make a strangled, surprised noise in his throat.

Derek’s hands grabbed at Stiles’s hips and held them down when Stiles accidentally (maybe not so accidentally) grinded into Derek’s thigh. He held Stiles back and broke the kiss, resting his forehead lazily against Stiles’s as he fought to catch his breath.

“So what was that for?” Stiles asked, not really caring about the answer. The fact that it had actually _happened_ and hadn’t just been a dream was good enough for Stiles.

Derek motioned upwards and Stiles followed his gaze to the mistletoe. “Gotta uphold tradition,” Derek smirked and pulled away from Stiles. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He reached passed Stiles and opened the door to reveal Lydia, Allison, Danny, and Isaac all at the end of the hallway pretending like they weren’t totally just watching Derek and Stiles making out on the porch through the small window beside the door.

“Alright everyone! Time for bed!” Lydia announced and the other three vanished from sight. She smiled coyly at the both of them.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” Derek asked, though he already looked one hundred and fifty percent done with her meddling. She shrugged innocently and disappeared after the others.

Stiles excused himself to quickly run upstairs and change into his pajamas. He took a few minutes to brush his teeth and stare at himself in the mirror, asking himself if his life was even real or not because _Derek Hale_. In no time he was back on the main level with his comforter ready to add to their small sleeping fort. Most of them were amalgamated as close to the fireplace as possible, all already dressed for sleep.

Derek was in his usual place, a little further off. Since he was the Alpha he claimed he needed a separate space of his own but Stiles had a very strong feeling it was just a cover to hide the fact that if anyone slept within cuddling range he’d latch onto them. He was about to test that theory when Scott grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards where he and the others were settling in.

Stiles cast a glance in Derek’s direction to see a faint look of disappointment fading from his face.

The lights were turned off and they all nestled in close together. Stiles tossed and turned, hyperactively aware of the fact that Derek was over _there_ and Stiles badly needed him to be _here_ , wrapped around Stiles and constricting his flailing to a minimum. It would really be better for all of them if Stiles wasn’t randomly fidgeting the entire night, keeping them all awake.

By the time Stiles finally made his decision to stealthily remove himself from the pile and wander over to Derek, he wasn’t sure if the rest of them were asleep or not, but he really didn’t care. He slowly began his crawl away from Scott and towards the opposite side of the room. He had to stand to step over a few bodies, almost managing it successfully until he accidentally stepped down onto Jackson’s foot and received an angry grunt and a ninja kick to the ass that sent him flying to the ground.

Luckily Derek was waiting to catch him. Neither of them said a word as Stiles nestled into Derek’s arms, resting his head into the crook of Derek’s shoulder. _Merry Christmas to me_ … Stiles thought contently to himself. The sound of Derek’s heart beat and steady breathing was what eventually carried Stiles off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Derek woke up before everyone else, before the sun had even begun to rise and brighten the dark night sky. He slowly stirred, blinking and rubbing the bleariness from his eyes with the back of his hand. He stared up at the ceiling for a long time, listening to his pack’s steady breathing and healthy heartbeats. His entire body was completely at ease, muscles relaxed and mind void of the usual worries that plagued him.

He wasn’t sure what had roused him from his dreamless slumber; everything was exactly as it should be. There was no threat, no reason for him to worry about the pack’s safety, but his eyes remained open and his consciousness refused to let him slip back to sleep.

Still, everything felt completely right; the warmth, the scent, the boy snuggled in close under his arm. Stiles fit into the space like it was where he’d always belonged.

Derek’s wolf was in a perfect state of bliss, which was something he’d never experienced before. For as long as he could remember it had always felt like a constant battle raging on inside of him, trying to keep the beast within in check. The challenge had only increased when he became the Alpha, all that power not easily contained. Having pack mates had made him stronger; they made the call of the wolf more bearable, and usually it remained shackled on the very edge of his awareness. A constant itch, like a buzz, which only lessened when he finally submitted and unleashed it.

Now though, his wolf wasn’t causing a stir at all. It was still there, obviously, but it was silent. The ache and bloodlust seemed practically non-existent, replaced by some foreign sense he couldn’t quite determine the origin of. He’d gotten a small taste of it a few times before, most recently when he and Stiles shared Stiles’s bed the other day, but it hadn’t been quite as potent as what he was currently experiencing.

Stiles shifted in his sleep, stretching and squirming, about to roll away from Derek’s grasp. The wolf snapped to full attention instantly, a low warning rumbling deep in Derek’s chest. His arm tightened around Stiles to hold him in place and keep him as near to Derek as possible. Stiles eased into Derek’s body, reaching an arm around Derek’s stomach and nestling in closer.

He sighed and his breathing evened out once more. Derek smiled, peering down at the boy’s sleeping face. He looked at peace and it made Derek’s heart throb in his chest.

Last night Stiles had said that he cared. Derek knew now that all of his friends and family cared about him, it was why their pack bonds were so strong, but hearing Stiles _say it_ was something else entirely. Derek reacted in a way he hadn’t expected himself to. He’d been a little charged from their encounter in Stiles’s bedroom, but the kiss on the porch was fuelled mostly by the deafening pounding of Stiles’s heart in Derek’s ears.

Derek just couldn’t resist it anymore.

Much like how he couldn’t resist reaching over and brushing Stiles’s hair off of his forehead while he slept. He idly stroked at Stiles’s soft skin with his thumb, not wanting to wake him but also really wanting to see how Stiles woke up. If his usual exuberance and energy was any indication he was _definitely_ a morning person.

Unfortunately footsteps upstairs thwarted any plans Derek had of sticking around long enough to find out. He carefully removed his arm from around Stiles, slid his pillow under Stiles’s head, and removed himself from the intimate position.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed or anything; that actually wasn’t it at all. But that was the sheriff’s footsteps on their way down the stairs and Derek wasn’t up for enduring any awkwardness through breakfast.

He wasn’t sure where he and Stiles were at – sure they’d kissed, and fallen asleep together, but they hadn’t really had much time to talk. Derek _liked_ talking though, even if it was difficult; it was just something he hadn’t been used to for a very long time. Being a part of the pack really inspired Derek to do a little more communicating and trusting. He wasn’t one hundred percent there yet, but he knew it was going to take some time. He just had to have patience with himself, not be so hard about mistakes that he’d made, because his pack deserved to have an Alpha who wasn’t self-loathing and blaming. They needed him to be strong. Not just physically but mentally and emotionally as well.

So he’d figure this out.

A couple days ago when Lydia approached him about it, he hadn’t given much thought to _what if_ Stiles actually wanted something more with him? He was forced to admit that she’d been right – _when is she not? ­_ – and now he actually had to check in with himself.

Did he like Stiles? Yeah, even though sometimes all he could ask himself was _why_. He had to admit the kid had his own sort of charm, what with his inability to sit still for longer than a second. Stiles’s humour was witty and sarcastic and sometimes Derek found himself smiling or chuckling without even meaning to. And the kid’s _coordination_ was _abominable_. How he’d even survived passed the age of three without cracking his skull open was a complete mystery to Derek. And somehow Derek found that _endearing_.

There were other aspects of Stiles, certain qualities, which were equally as curious. Like his obsession with all things occult, approaching the supernatural world with something akin to childlike awe and wonder. Most of the humans Derek knew, if they weren’t hunters, didn’t exactly react well when told that humans were in fact _not_ on the very top of the food chain. Stiles had practically thrown a party.

In addition to that Stiles had never once looked back, not that Derek had ever seen or heard. Stiles was loyal, sometimes to a fault, and it was ridiculous that he’d probably throw himself in front of a bullet for Derek even though Derek would be able to walk away from it and Stiles wouldn’t.

Stiles was brilliant, he’d gotten into _Berkeley_ on a _scholarship_ with an average Derek didn’t know a person could even have. Sure, Lydia’s was higher, but she didn’t have an attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. Stiles could come up with plans and tactics, think outside the box during a hunt and under pressure. Sometimes he got emotional but he could keep himself focused when it truly mattered.

So yes, Derek really liked Stiles. Because being around him was _easy_ and _nice_ and hell, it just felt _right_ for some reason.

They’d grown to be very close, not just because they were pack, but because they’d managed to become _friends_. Stiles challenged Derek and he had his back. Derek knew he could count on Stiles no matter what.

And on top of all that – the shared ideas, laughs, banter, and general history and time spent together – Stiles was an attractive guy. His eyes were dark; maybe it had something to do with how thick and long his eyelashes were (not that Derek noticed or anything…), but they were also very thoughtful and deep and sometimes Derek had trouble breathing when they locked onto him.

And Stiles’s _mouth_ was so goddamn _distracting_ it wasn’t even fair. And it was always moving. As were his long, spastic fingers. And sometimes he’d wiggle his feet and jiggle his legs up and down, like he had an infinite amount of energy to expel.

It was just all ridiculous. It was ridiculous that Derek even _noticed_ how ridiculous Stiles was. But he had. And he was officially screwed.

Sheriff Stilinski tiptoed through the living room on his way to the kitchen, unaware that Derek was feigning sleep. As soon as Derek heard the kitchen tap turn on he was sitting up and adjusting his clothing, straightening everything out before hopping to his feet and making his way into the bathroom. In his reflection in the mirror he could see that his hair was disheveled, his stubble a bit thicker than usual, and though he looked a little washed out from lack of sleep, he also looked… content.

He attended to his bladder’s needs and then headed back to the living room, looking over his pack with a smile pulling at his lips. Seeing them all finally together again last night had made him exceptionally happy, and proud, because they were all basically adults now who were taking care of themselves miles away. But they still came back home, back to him and back to their roots.

And that’s what really mattered because it was a choice that they were consistently making, to return.

He heard John clear his throat so he looked over and nodded his greetings to the older man standing in the open doorway. John motioned for Derek to join him in the kitchen with a jerk of his head.

Derek glanced once more to ensure they were all still sound asleep before joining John on the kitchen. “Coffee?” John asked as soon as Derek closed the door behind them.

“Sure.” He smiled and accepted the offered mug eagerly. He took a long whiff of it, the scent welcoming and delicious, and then a short sip of the steaming liquid. It burnt his tongue a bit but the rawness faded instantly as his mouth repaired itself.

“It’s nice to have everyone home again,” John murmured before taking a sip out of his own mug. “Especially Stiles. It’s good to see him so happy after everything he’s been through over the past few years. Not knocking you Derek, but ever since his mom died and then Scott with the werewolf stuff and you with the pack, and everything in between, I wasn’t sure if he’d even be able to have a normal life again.” The sheriff sounded resigned and a little sad, but he was still smiling.

There were some days when Derek looked back on everything, asked himself if turning Jackson, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd had been a good idea. They could’ve been away from all of this, their lives not in immediate and constant danger.

Jackson had sought Derek out though, it had been the kid’s choice to ask for the bite. Derek still agreed to give it, and then everything with the kanima happened and that was just hell. Isaac would’ve eventually gotten away from his father, but he’d always be the victim. Erica would’ve kept on having her seizures. Boyd would’ve remained unhealthy and invisible, and he would’ve had no one. So they all made their choices and decided to face the consequences.

But now they were pack; Jackson wasn’t as much of a dick, Isaac knew people could genuinely care for him and express that affection in ways other than locking him in a freezer, Erica was strong and confident and no longer insecure, and Boyd wasn’t afraid to speak his mind now. Things were just better.

Derek was the Alpha and he had to look at the bigger picture. They all might be in more danger now, but they were happier. They had each other. And he wouldn’t regret that. He wouldn’t regret being a part of this new family. Given the chance he would not rewrite that part of his history.

But the other half of them… Scott, Allison, Danny, Lydia, and Stiles; they really hadn’t had much of a choice. Peter had turned Scott without warning, forcing him to live this new life. Stiles obviously went along for the ride because danger apparently just meant _adventure_ to him. Allison’s family was already in the life, she was going to find out about werewolves and other supernaturals sooner or later. Danny and Lydia were both tied to Jackson, and Derek hadn’t added them into the equation when he gave Jackson the bite. He’d been young and naïve, too fresh to being Alpha to consider all the angles.

It was years later now however, and they’d all been through a lot together. Though they might not have been happy in the beginning, things had changed since then. They’d grown together, become strong together. They were making something out of what had been given to them – whether they chose it in the first place or not – and that was enough for Derek, to see them happy.

He still wondered if any of them thought differently though, if they wished they hadn’t been introduced to the supernatural world.

“What did he want to be? When he was younger, I mean.” Derek didn’t have a hard time imagining what Stiles was like as a child – hyper and bouncy, curious and extremely outgoing, unable to sit still for longer than five seconds; basically just a smaller version of the regular Stiles.

John grinned as he slipped into a bit of nostalgia. “You know, he went through everything a lot faster than other kids. One second he’d be all over wanting to fly to the moon, the next he’d get his hands on a toy horse and declare he was going to be a cowboy. Once he even decided he was going to be a ballerina when he was around five or six, but you’ve seen him. He’s a klutz. Didn’t take long for him to realize his feet couldn’t keep up with his brain, so he dropped the ballet slippers and picked up painting instead.”

Derek laughed a little too loudly at that. “That must’ve been messy.” The sheriff nodded emphatically.

“It was. His mother encouraged him through everything though, didn’t even bat an eye when she walked into his room to find that he’d decided to paint the walls purple.” John’s smile faltered then, as a sudden wave of sadness rolled through him. Derek could smell a little of it, faint and distant. “She always loved him.” He paused, rubbing his hand down his face. Derek remained silent, staring down at the floor, remembering his own mother and the way she supported him. John sighed, looking back up at Derek with a renewed energy. “The only things Stiles has ever stuck with are drumming, snowboarding, and the internet. So I guess I should just be thankful he even decided to go to school in the first place.”

“You don’t think he could make it as a pro snowboarder?” Derek asked and John raised an eyebrow.

“And end up breaking his neck trying to create new world records? Jumping out of helicopters and racing avalanches? I prefer my son alive, not chasing after adrenaline and danger.” It was then that John paused and his heavy gaze fell on Derek, pinning him where he leaned against the counter. “I guess I don’t really have a say in my son’s safety anymore, though, which is why I need you to promise me that when he comes back to Beacon Hills you’ll keep him safe. Stop him from trying to be the hero all the time.”

Derek was one hundred percent positive that even if he wanted to, if _anyone_ wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to persuade Stiles to stop putting himself in harm’s way to protect the people that he loved. “You have my word, Mr. Stilinski.” Derek managed to say without sounding too meaningful. “Things have been quiet here for a long time, I don’t think he’ll be in any danger when he returns.” They hadn’t had an incident since the Alpha pack and that was almost three years ago now.

Derek was always ready to defend his pack though, especially if they were going to be reunited in a couple of years, when they were done with school and ready to start on finding careers. When Stiles came back there was a possibility _something_ would happen - a new werewolf pack invading on their territory, witches popping up, shape shifters encroaching on their territory; Stiles was a magnet for danger.

That’s why Derek had to look after the guy. If he didn’t that would just leave Scott, and that would be a complete mess. Derek had no choice but to keep an extra watchful eye.

“Good. That’s what I like to hear as the sheriff of a town with a local werewolf pack.” He smiled warmly, taking another sip of his coffee before making a sound. “Oh! If you ever call me Mr. Stilinski again, Derek, I’ll set Melissa on you. You know you’re supposed to call me John.” He teased, his eyes light and amused. Derek smiled apologetically.

“Right, sorry sir. John.” Four years ago he never would’ve imagined having John Stilinski as a full member of his pack, sheriff of Beacon Hills and father to the most obnoxious teenager Derek had ever met, but there they were, in the kitchen, sipping coffee together on Christmas Day.

It was nice. John had a gentle temper that reminded Derek of his own father.

A body in the living room began to stir and it wasn’t long before Erica was trudging through the kitchen doorway, her hair a tangled mess on the top of her head. “Merry Christmas.” She croaked and immediately zoned in on the coffee machine.

The others slowly began waking up, one by one, floating around the house in varying states of coherence. Stiles was among the last to struggle out of sleep, blinking several times, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms out over his head with a content smile on his face. Derek could hear the boy’s joints cracking and cringed internally.

“As much as we’d loved to stay here and bask in the glory that is Papa Stilinski’s Special Christmas Morning Pancakes, Jackson and I are off to my mother’s, then my father’s, and then his parents’ house.” Lydia was making her rounds, hugging and kissing her farewells. She gave Derek a quick hug as she passed by but stopped at Stiles to give him a peck on the cheek.

Derek’s wolf rumbled, gathering the attention of every other wolf in the room; Scott looked alert and worried, but the rest of them were smirking a little too knowingly for Derek’s taste. Jackson just shrugged as if to say, ‘ _I know man, I know_.’

“Are you sure you can’t stay for breakfast?” Melissa asked as she rested a hand on Jackson’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He bowed his head and smiled regretfully at her.

“Maybe next time.” He answered quietly and then disappeared out the front door, bags and boxes gathered in his arms full of gifts from the night before. Danny followed close behind, helpfully supplying an extra pair of arms to carry everything to Lydia’s car.

“I’m calling you later Stiles.” Lydia stated as she gave him a meaningful glare. Derek was glad he wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

Stiles rolled his eyes and shook his head a bit. “Yeah, yeah. Get going already! I’ll talk to you later.” He herded her out of the house, waiting out on the front porch so he could wave goodbye to them as they pulled away. Derek joined him out in the cool, brisk air and momentarily realized that Stiles was shivering.

Though last night’s conclusion wasn’t certain, Derek ignored the immediate hesitation he felt and wrapped an arm around Stiles’s shoulders. It was a little awkward at first, considering Stiles and him were practically the same height, the younger boy even a little taller, but Stiles sank into the touch, and it was comfortable.

Danny gave them a sidelong glance before disappearing into the house, leaving them there alone once Lydia and Jackson drove away down the street. Derek wasn’t sure what to say, or if he should even say anything. But Stiles seemed to really like words, so Derek was going to give it a shot.

“So, about last night-,” Derek started but suddenly Stiles’s entire body tensed up at the same time as panic seeped into the air around them. Without realizing it Derek’s grip around the boy’s shoulders tightened.

“Oh god, can we not?” Stiles asked, his voice pleading. Derek froze, frowning. “Any conversation that starts with, _so_ , is not a good kind of conversation. Especially when it’s not even noon yet.” Stiles took a step away, Derek’s arm falling to his side. “If you’re going to tell me that last night shouldn’t have happened the way it did I’m literally going to go inside and slam my head in the refrigerator door.”

Derek stood there, his mouth hanging open, because he definitely wasn’t expecting Stiles to interpret his behaviour in that way at all. “Do _you_ think that?” He asked. His wolf whined, wanting to reach out, but he wasn’t sure what the hell was going on with Stiles.

“No. I mean… _no_. I’ve been waiting for last night to happen for a long time.” Stiles finally looked back up at Derek after having been looking at his feet since he pulled away. The stark winter morning’s sun cast a bright reflection in Stiles’s eyes, and his whole expression was breathtaking. His pale skin looked soft and Derek’s fingers itched to reach out and touch.

So, that’s exactly what he did.

He grabbed Stiles’s wrist and tugged him close, almost pulling the uncoordinated boy off of his feet. Their lips met in a harsh crash, due to the fact that Stiles had lost his balance and practically fell into Derek headfirst. That their lips had connected at all was a miracle in itself.

They parted only long enough for Derek to get his hands on both of Stiles’s arms to steady him, but then Stiles placed a heavy hand on the center of Derek’s chest and _pushed_. Derek's back slammed into the wall, and there was a moment where Derek stared at Stiles in amusement before the boy’s entire body was against his, locking their lips together once more and stealing what little breath Derek’s lungs had left to give.

His head grew lighter with every tug of Stiles’s lips, and every nip delivered to his own. He struggled against the wolf, its desire to take control, and instead allowed Stiles’s hands to keep him firmly in his place. He’d never allowed that before, not with anyone, not since Kate. But he felt… safe. He knew Stiles wouldn’t hurt him.

When Stiles pulled away Derek followed, not caring that they needed to come up for air at some point. Stiles’s heart hammered in his chest at an even faster rate than Derek’s own elevated heartbeat. “I gotta stop.” Stiles mumbled lowly, breathing heavily. Derek could see how dilated Stiles’s pupils were and the scent of arousal was heavy in the air, causing most of his other senses to completely malfunction.

All he could hear was Stiles’s heartbeat, the rasp in his breathing. All he could see were Stiles’s almost black eyes, desire so thick it practically devoured Derek on the spot. He could taste nothing but the ghost traces of Stiles, his lips feeling bruised and eagerly tingling for more. Stiles’s scent mingling with his own was enough to drive Derek to blissful insanity.

He couldn’t just _stop_ , not when Stiles’s hands were on him the way they were, and the way Stiles’s voice had _sounded_. As soon as Stiles’s hands began to fall away Derek was pulling Stiles back to him with a hand on the boy’s back. He latched onto the lean, exposed skin of Stiles’s neck; kissing and licking and nibbling every so often just to hear the catch in Stiles’s breath.

“ _Derek_.” Stiles hissed, grabbing on tightly to Derek’s arms but only barely attempting to push him away. Derek rumbled as his wolf did, and he let his instincts take him over completely. His hips ground against Stiles’s as he sucked a hard mark into Stiles’s delicate, pale skin. Stiles whined and Derek wrestled with the urge to pull away, afraid that he’d accidentally been too rough, but the wolf was overwhelming. It wanted to mark Stiles, claim him to ensure others would keep a respectable distance. And he could indulge it, because he didn't have to hide his true nature from Stiles.

He could feel the Alpha just beneath the surface; his eyes glowing an intense red, making everything sharper. He struggled to regain control, but suddenly Stiles’s fingers were tangling themselves in Derek’s hair, tugging slightly. Derek finally managed to break away from Stiles’s neck, only long enough for Stiles to capture Derek’s lips in a wet, hot open-mouthed kiss that only deepened as Stiles’s fingers tugged _harder_.

Derek was on the brink of losing himself, his pants extremely too tight now that his dick was straining to escape its prison – _but they were out in plain view of literally everyone_. Derek had to stop _now_ , otherwise he’d be facing a public indecency charge for sexing up the _sheriff’s_ son on the _front porch_ of their _family home_.

He didn’t see that ending too well.

“Okay, Stiles.” Derek tried to break the kiss but Stiles’s mouth was extremely persistent. “Stiles!” Derek tried again, and this time Stiles decided it was his turn to torture Derek. He trailed kisses along Derek’s jawline, sending pricks of pleasure through Derek’s entire body with every nip and lick. “ _Stiles_.” Before Stiles could reach Derek’s neck he grabbed the boy’s arms and pushed him away. It wasn’t rough, but it was enough to jerk Stiles back to attention.

“Whoa, dude,” Stiles motioned to his own eyes, “your eyes are really, _really_ red right now.” Stiles wasn’t afraid though, if anything the arousal seemed to _thicken_ , which Derek hadn’t thought possible since he was almost drowning in it already. He took a deep breath to calm himself and removed his hands from Stiles.

Derek scanned Stiles’s face, seeing the swollen lips and the quickly darkening mark on his neck, along with a very noticeable amount of stubble burn scattered just about everywhere. Derek’s wolf rumbled its contentment, but Derek felt his cheeks redden. He hadn’t meant to get so carried away.

“I should go.” He said and turned towards his car, hand already in his jeans pocket to retrieve his keys. Stiles’s hand gripped at his shoulder.

“What? Where the hell do you think you’re going?” He asked, and he was trying not to sound worried and desperate, but his voice cracked. Derek smiled, looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll be back later. I promised Peter I’d call him before noon.” Peter may not have been Derek’s favourite person, but he was still family. He’d never forgive him for killing Laura – how could he? – but Peter had been making an effort to redeem himself.

Stiles made a face, obviously not entirely thrilled with Derek’s uncle either. “But we have pancakes.” Like that was even a valid argument.

“I’m sure I’ll survive.” Derek replied and turned back to face Stiles just for a moment. He struggled through his thoughts, attempting to figure out how to address what was going on between them. Finally he settled on saying, “So, about last night, and I guess just now, we have to talk about what it means.” Not just what it meant between them, but what it would mean in the future as well. Derek had never dealt with dating in the pack, not personally. He’d seen Scott and Allison, Lydia and Jackson, Erica and Boyd, and all of them had managed successfully so far.

But this was Derek and he was damaged. Even if he’d had some time to heal he was still broken. Proof of that could be seen in the disaster that was all of his previous relationships.

“Agreed.” Stiles nodded, smiling crookedly. They stared at each other for a long moment, and the entire time their eyes were locked Derek was wondering what was going through Stiles’s head. “Before you go I just have one question.” Stiles asked, his voice small. Derek raised an eyebrow. “This meant something to you, right? Like, I mean… _I_ mean something to you.”

Derek _almost_ slapped Stiles on the back of the head. “ _Of course_ you do, have you been paying attention at all?” Derek sighed, rubbing his forehead in an attempt to massage away the headache slowly forming in his frontal lobe.

Suddenly Derek was being constricted in a bear hug. “Yeah, I have.” For a moment Derek stood there stunned, he hadn’t expected the surprise hug, but slowly his body relaxed and he let himself sink into the embrace. “Okay, so, we’ll talk more later.” Stiles’s hand was rubbing small circles into Derek’s back.

Derek was the first to pull away, giving Stiles a nod before turning and walking away towards his Camaro. He didn’t look back; too afraid that if he did he wouldn’t be able to drive away. He climbed into his car, reversed out of the driveway, and headed towards his apartment.

As he got further and further away from Stiles his wolf whined louder and louder inside of his head. He tried to ignore it, to focus on the road, but by the time he turned into his parking lot he only vaguely remembered driving there.

He was basically on auto-pilot as he made his way up to his apartment and to his desk where his computer was waiting for him. He clicked open Skype and found Peter in his contacts, quickly hitting video call and anxiously waiting for Peter to pick up. It rang several times, unanswered, before finally there was a distinct _click_ as the line connected.

"Hello Derek. You're looking as dour as ever." Peter's smug smirk flashed across the screen through the static. "It's Christmas, shouldn't you be off with your merry little pack chasing after gum drops and candy canes and finding the true meaning of the holidays? I'm surprised you have any time at all for your poor, old uncle."

"Peter." Derek replied as a greeting and a warning. His uncle had been getting particularly irritating lately, subtly dropping certain hints about wanting Derek to visit them, and perhaps remain there with the other pack permanently. "How have your holidays been?" Derek hated small talk, but he always seemed to degrade himself to basic conversation when his uncle was involved.

"Excellent. Your cousin Aria has been wonderful, she even helped me get full citizenship. I'm officially Canadian." Peter said proudly, like it was some sort of accomplishment living in a country where the main exports were maple syrup and snow.

"Congratulations." Derek replied, absentmindedly pulling out his phone and scrolling through it. There was a long silence before he realized Peter hadn't said anything else. He looked up to see the curious gaze on Peter's face. "What?"

"Oh nothing. Just thinking. You don't have any plans for the New Year yet, do you?" There was something suspicious in his tone; it was too sugary sweet to be innocent.

"I was thinking about expanding the shop, taking on an apprentice." Derek's garage had been pretty successful since he’d spent less time fighting rogue monsters and more time focusing on building up his car business.

Cars were the only thing that made sense to him outside of the pack. He liked fixing things, repairing what seemed to be irreparably broken.

"Well that sounds... boring." Peter scrunched up his face and sat back in his chair. The screen crackled and the video blurred, which Derek was thankful for. It was easier to talk to his uncle when he couldn't see his face; the inclination to punch him seemed to lessen. "Tell me Derek, what's it like to have a perfect pack? No responsibilities, no danger. Must be nice."

Derek bristled. "Oh? And how would you know about what my pack goes through? The last time you were here you didn't even stay in Beacon Hills." Which, again, Derek wasn't complaining, but he felt the need to defend his pack.

"Well if I knew you missed me that much I would've made sure we got to have our own little slumber party." Peter replied drily. Derek was not amused. "Look, I think it's great that my nephew has found himself a pack of outcasts, and managed to keep them alive despite the fact that he honestly had no idea what he was doing. An inspiring story, really. But I'm afraid you've gone rather soft, Derek. When's the last time you went up against a rogue werewolf? Or a witch? Honestly, when's the last time you and your crew of misfits had to deal with anything beyond getting yourselves nice and cozily domesticated?"

Derek could feel anger bubbling up inside him. "You make happiness sound like it's wrong."

"Is that what you are Derek? Happy? Or are you just complacent?" Derek glared at the screen. "You know just as well as I do that people like you and me don't get to have a 'happily ever after'."

Derek grimaced. "People like you and me?" He asked, shuddering at the idea that he was anything like his uncle. Peter shrugged.

"Yes. People like us, Derek. People who have lost everything and struggle and fight to get back what was taken from us. But what we once had we can never get back, never replace. We can try, but in the end it's still never going to be the same." Peter ended his short speech, his eyes fixed on the camera like he was looking right at Derek with his heady gaze.

Derek had to focus on his breathing to calm himself. "I'm not trying to replace anything." He growled. Peter laughed bitterly.

"Is that so? Good for you then, you're a better man than me." Peter raised an eyebrow, obviously doubting Derek. "I need you to do me a favour."

"Why am I not surprised?" Derek asked, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

"I need you to come visit," Peter started, and heard the angry snarl that was Derek's reply. "Hear me out before you get all snarly and furry. No need for the fangs to come out. This is a genuine request because we need your help dealing with a certain problem that has arisen." Derek frowned.

“What sort of problem? And why would I even help you?” After Peter’s mini, verbal assault it wasn’t like Derek was feeling warm and fuzzy towards his uncle.

“We’re family Derek, and you can try to deny it but you’d do anything for family.” There was a short pause to give Derek a chance to disagree, but he didn’t. Peter smiled triumphantly. “There’s a small coven of vampires here, encroaching on werewolf territory. Usually it wouldn’t be an issue, but the vamps seem to think they have some sort of claim on the land here. The disagreements have led to… certain violence. It’s five of them against thirteen of us, Derek. If you don’t get here within the month I’m afraid our little pack may face total annihilation.”

Peter always did have a flair for the dramatic. But Derek had heard that one vampire could take down three werewolves before being put down, so maybe his uncle's worries had some truth and validity behind them.

“Right. And how am I supposed to help?” He’d never faced a vampire before, didn’t know how to weaken them or kill them.

Peter sighed, as if he were starting to get bored with their conversation. “You’re an Alpha, there are plenty of ways you can help us against the vampires.” Even though that was true, Derek’s power would be limited so far away from his own pack.

Derek thought about it for a moment, frowning and biting his lower lip in consternation. “Does Ian know you’re asking me for help?” Ian was the other pack’s Alpha, and the last time he and Derek were in the same room the tension had set every single person there on edge.

It’s not that he didn’t like the older man, he seemed strong and stubborn, and very protective; but the fact that Derek was an Alpha raised the other man’s hackles instantly. The conflict between them was always heated. Just another reason why Derek had no intention of visiting the other pack unless strictly necessary.

“Yes, he’s actually the one who suggested you lend a hand.” Peter answered, and that threw Derek a little. He was silent as his uncle waited patiently for him to think things over.

“How long would you need me for?” Derek asked, calculating and quietly planning.

“Only a week. Probably. You never know with these things.” Peter tried to shrug it off but Derek saw the shiftiness in his uncle’s eyes.

“If it’s any longer you’re going to have to deal with this yourselves.” The decision was made then, though Derek wasn’t entirely happy with the idea of leaving his pack for an entire week. Peter’s smile grew wide on his face and instantly Derek regretted agreeing.

“Excellent. I’ll book your flight tonight and we’ll have you out here by this time next week. I’ll buy your ticket. Think of it as my Christmas present to you.” Peter did a bit of clicking, his face lighting up brighter as he pulled open a new tab on his computer.

“Not so fast. I don’t want to leave until next Friday. You guys can survive until then, right?” If they couldn’t then that wasn’t Derek’s problem. Peter sighed, rolling his eyes up towards the ceiling.

“Yes, I suppose we’ll be fine until you get around to it.” Peter replied drily. Derek nodded.

“Good. I’ll see you then.” He muttered and quickly hit ‘end call’. Peter’s picture disappeared and Derek’s hands stopped winding themselves into tight fists. He didn’t know how his uncle managed to always manipulate him into doing whatever he wanted. Peter was _evil_. But he was family.

Derek picked up his cell phone from where he placed it on his desk. He shot a quick mass text to the pack, telling them they needed to have a pack meeting later at around five o’clock, and then he pulled up Stiles’s contact information.

**_Derek:_ **

**Meet me for four?**

Since he was leaving in a week he’d have to deal with Stiles as soon as possible. They needed to figure things out before he went away to another country. If he was going to be dealing with a bunch of vampires he couldn’t afford the distraction that was _Stiles_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: A character in this chapter experiences a panic attack.

As soon as Stiles walked through the front door he was ambushed by Allison. She was smirking in a way that set Stiles’s nerves on edge. She was obviously up to no good. “So, you said goodbye to Derek?” She asked cheerily.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at her. “Yeah, he had to go take care of something. He’ll be back later though.” Stiles wasn’t sure if the uneasiness in his stomach was from the nerves, or if he was just _really_ hungry. He’d know more as soon as he stuffed his face with a plate full of pancakes, lathered in syrup and deliciousness.

Allison bit at her lip, nodding. “Oh, good. That’s good.” Her smile grew sly as she reached over and grabbed a hold of Stiles’s chin in her hand. “Because I think he missed a spot.” Suddenly her phone appeared and she snapped a picture. Stiles flailed away from her.

“What is it with you and taking pictures of me?” He groaned, slapping his hands over his face to hide whatever it was she was getting so giddy about. She shrugged innocently, typing quickly on her phone before slipping it into her pocket and safely away from him. “You just sent it to Lydia, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. He suspected his own phone would soon be alerting him to Lydia’s inevitable call or text, commenting on whatever Allison had sent her.

“Lydia, Danny, Isaac, and Erica.” She answered, biting on her tongue and giggling.

Stiles let out a whimper. “Seriously? Danny, Isaac, and Erica are still here! They’re in the other room! Why couldn’t you just show it to them?” He whined, covering the entirety of his face now. Obviously if he couldn’t see them, they wouldn’t be able to see him.

“I think yesterday proved that the only way to keep these pictures safe, is to ensure we all have a saved copy.” She patted his shoulder consolingly, as if she wasn’t the main source of his pain right now, and then happily skipped away and left him to mope alone in the hallway.

It took him a few seconds before he peeked out from under his hands to see that the coast was clear, and before any of them could intrude on him again he raced upstairs and locked himself in his bathroom. The first thing he did was inspect himself in the mirror, and _he almost died_.

His entire face was blotchy from the stubble burn that he’d totally forgotten was even a thing. Well, okay, _entire_ face was a bit of an over-dramatization, but basically it covered various parts along his jaw and cheeks, and it was the worst on his chin and base of his neck.

 _Oh god_ , his _neck_. It was ruined. Actually ruined. He’d never seen a mark that big – _ever_. It was almost the size of a _golf ball_ , and it was already dark. He pressed lightly against it, wincing at the pain that slight pressure had caused.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” He growled under his breath, covering his neck with his hand. Like it would magically make it all disappear. Spoiler alert: it didn’t.

He bit his lip, staring hard at himself in the mirror. His skin was a little raw, and the burns and little bite marks were starting to ache. And they were so _hot_. Not just temperature wise, but knowing Derek had been the one to mark him like this – and Stiles’s memory was still fresh with the intensity of it all, how _fucking spectacular_ it felt – Stiles couldn’t fight against reliving the moment in his head, with Derek’s lips kissing him and marking him all over again.

He was already hard by the time he managed to pull himself back to the present, locked up in his bathroom with everyone just a floor beneath him. He pretended, just for a moment, that he’d straighten himself out and face them all with his head held high, but then he shook himself out of that fantasy and ducked into his room to grab a fresh towel.

He stripped and hopped into the shower, turning the water on nearly full blast. He’d hoped it would help settle him a little, but it was a shower. And he was naked. And recently he’d been dealing with raging hard-ons that never seemed to get dealt with. Because of Derek fucking Hale. And as soon as he came to the conclusion that this was all Derek’s fault – which it definitely was – he had a hand wrapped around his cock, stroking it to thoughts of Derek’s lips pressed against his skin.

It didn’t take long for him to build up to his climax; this was a release he sorely needed. He knew all the angles, how hard he liked it, what grip was best. When his orgasm tore through him he shuddered, biting down hard on his lip to stifle the moan of pure pleasure that was stuck in his throat. What had finally gotten him over the edge was imagining how hot it would be if their next make out session took place in the shower, with _both_ of them naked.

He washed himself off quickly, sure to use copious amounts of soap to get rid of the scent of his release, just in case one of the wolves downstairs decided to take an extra whiff of him. He finished up after rinsing out his hair and switched the shower head off. The steam from the water misted up the mirror, inhibiting Stiles’s paranoid inspection of his face and neck. He hopped out of the tub and wrapped the towel around his waist, securing it before heading back to his bedroom.

He rummaged through his drawers; pulling out a clean pair of boxer briefs and slipping them on, letting the towel fall to the floor. He dried his hair and hung the towel up to dry before returning to his search for clothing. He pulled out his black hoodie, hoping the baggy hood of it would aid in hiding his neck, and a pair of old jeans. He was just about to walk back into the bathroom for one last inspection when he spotted the socks Derek had given him, resting on top of the Hale bestiary.

He crossed his room and reached down, taking them both in his hands. He carried them over to his bed, where he promptly sat down and shoved the socks onto his feet, giving his toes a little wiggle before turning back to the book.

He hadn’t really thought what it had meant at the time, he’d been so caught up in the surprise of Derek giving it to him. Now that he looked back on it though, he realized that Derek _trusted_ him. Which was huge.

Derek was his Alpha, and they’d been together in the pack for years now, had a strong friendship and pack bonds. But it wasn’t until last night that Derek actually handed Stiles one of the most priceless things Derek had to offer – _without Stiles even having to ask_.

Trust was an important thing for Stiles, because it meant that there was something deeper there that was holding them together. It meant that Derek listened to Stiles, and would be honest with Stiles, and maybe, _just maybe_ , Derek would get to a point where he’d be able to accept Stiles’s heart, and give his own in return.

Stiles shook himself out of his silent contemplation and decided it was time to face the music. As he was getting up to check himself one more time in the mirror, his phone vibrated in his pocket. There was a message there from Lydia, received while he was still in the shower.

**_Lydia:_ **

**Next time get him to shave before you two mack on each other.**

Stiles grinned despite himself.

**_Stiles:_ **

**I like my men rugged, I guess I’ll just have to suffer through the pain.**

There was no way in hell he’d ask Derek to shave off the sexiness that was his stubble. He’d endure the pain, come to terms with the fact that he had a kink he hadn’t known about until now (marking and biting), and he’d deal with the consequences.

The consequence this time being his father raising an eyebrow, opening his mouth to say something, and then just shaking his head and walking away from his son. Stiles joined them all at the table, ignoring Erica nudging Boyd’s elbow to look at Stiles, not paying any mind to how devilish Isaac’s grin had turned into, and definitely not even looking in Scott’s general direction. The moment his best friend saw the hickey earlier, when Stiles walked into the living room, he choked on his own breath and retreated to Allison’s side, his face an entirely new shade of red, possibly one that hadn’t existed prior to Scott’s horrification.

“Derek did that to him?” Stiles heard Scott squeak before Allison patted him gently on the back and led him back to the kitchen. Now that they were all sitting at the table, it was a little hard for Stiles to ignore them, but he was managing it. Well, he _was_ , right up until Melissa looked over and finally realized why Stiles’s skin was so irritated.

“Jesus Stiles! Get into a fight with a vacuum cleaner?” She asked, and his dad nearly spat out his drink. Erica and Allison giggled madly as Stiles’s face grew warm with embarrassment.

“I’d say it was a cactus.” His dad commented before setting his drink back down on the table. Stiles wanted to die. He wanted to shrivel up and disappear, and his father so was _not_ getting a Father’s Day card next year.

“Neither. I fell into a bush of thorny roses.” He replied, and was about to change the subject when Erica suddenly snorted.

“More like _horny_.” She smirked, wiggling her eyebrows at Stiles. He really should’ve seen that coming.

The sheriff cleared his throat, getting everyone’s attention. “As much as I love to see my son sweat, maybe this conversation would be better after breakfast, when I’m not trying to eat.” Papa Stilinski to the rescue… sort of. It was good enough though, because the subject was switched off of Stiles and onto a variety of other things.

By the time he’d finished stuffing his face full of sugary sweet pancakes it was almost noon, and there was still no sign of Derek, which was disappointing, because Stiles shouldn’t be the only one getting pestered about the markings on him. He hadn't even stuck around long enough to say his goodbyes to Scott, Allison, Erica, and Boyd, who all had other parts of their family to visit before the day was through.

Stiles, on the other hand, only had the one family. Most of his mother’s relatives lived too far away to visit, and the same went with his father’s side. Isaac didn’t have anyone else either, so he usually hung around the Stilinski-McCall residence on most holidays.

Stiles made his way upstairs, Isaac trailing silently behind him as he led them into his bedroom. Isaac sunk into his desk chair while Stiles landed gracelessly on his bed, almost falling off the other side. He scrambled to snatch the bestiary before it slipped onto the floor.

He righted himself before carefully opening up the cover, the comforting scent of old book bringing a smile to his lips. Isaac was watching him with vague amusement and curiosity. “Hey, isn’t that Derek’s family’s book?” He rolled a little closer to examine the cover. “I thought he said we weren’t allowed to even _look_ at it, let alone open it up and read it.”

Stiles shrugged, trying to be casual but his smile was still breaking through. “Yeah, well, things change.” Isaac got off the chair and jumped onto the bed beside Stiles, lying close to him and peering into the book over his shoulder.

“It’s all in Latin?” Isaac sounded a little disappointed. Stiles nudged his shoulder up against Isaac’s.

“Don’t worry bro, I’m gonna work my magic and translate it so everyone can read it.” Stiles opened it up to the first page, reading the title out loud, “ _Lupis vir_ ,” which roughly translated into, _wolf man_. It made sense that they’d have a bit of information on their own kind – which Stiles was going to spend an abundance of time researching. They knew all the basics, but there were still some sacred rituals and hidden mysteries that it wouldn’t hurt to know.

As Stiles skimmed through the page, managing to pick out a few words like, _cruor_ , which meant, _blood_ , and, _luna_ , which meant, well, _moon_ , Isaac hovered over Stiles, peering at the page of Latin words as if he were capable of reading it too.

“What does… that word mean?” He pointed to the middle of the page, at the word, _morsus_.

“Pretty sure it means bite.” Stiles answered, and Isaac nodded.

“And that one?” He pointed to a few words over, _ferus_.

“Wild, or, I think maybe savage, something along those lines. I’ll have to study the context to get a better idea.” It also wouldn’t hurt if he’d thought to bring his Latin translation book. Isaac patted him a couple times on the shoulder roughly.

“Sounds like a fun read. Good luck.” He bounced off the bed and reclaimed the desk chair, rolling himself towards the computer desk and waking the laptop from sleep mode. “Mind if I check some of my online stuff?” He asked, but was already typing in Stiles’s password to unlock it.

“Yeah, all yours. I’m gonna try and get started on this thing.” He reached over to his school bag and pulled out an old notebook and a pen. He opened the book up to a blank page and scrawled ‘ _Hale Bestiary Translation_ ’ at the top of the page.

Before he could get any further, his phone vibrated in his pocket, coincidentally at precisely the same moment that Isaac’s phone started beeping. Before Stiles managed wrestling his cell from his jeans pocket, Isaac had already read his message. “Pack meeting at five, Derek’s apartment. Did he mention anything about this?”

“No, but I’d bet money it has something to do with Peter. He left to go and call that bastard, to wish him a Merry Christmas, or whatever.” Stiles replied unhappily. At the sound of Peter’s name, Isaac made a scrunched up face.

“I still really hate that guy.” Isaac shared, shamelessly. Stiles agreed, wholeheartedly.

“Trust me; no one is happier than me that the dude lives in another country, several hours away. I’m pretty sure that if he’d stayed, Lydia and I would’ve managed to either kill him, or ship him off to Antarctica. I guess Canada works just as well though.” As long as Peter wasn’t trying to kill them, or manipulate them for his own selfish desires, Stiles never really had cause to spare a thought for Derek’s deranged uncle.

Isaac chuckled. “Yeah, let the Canadians deal with him.”

Stiles idly wondered if universal healthcare covered psychiatric care. Isaac went back to typing away on Stiles’s laptop, while Stiles finally managed to free his phone from his pocket. There were two messages waiting for him.

**_Derek:_ **

**Pack meeting at five sharp. I’ll see you all at my apartment then.**

**_Derek:_ **

**Meet me at four?**

Considering Isaac hadn’t mentioned anything about a second message, Stiles concluded it had only been sent to him. He quickly typed out his reply.

**_Stiles:_ **

**Sounds good. What’s up?**

He hoped he could get the scoop now rather than later, before his imagination and paranoia could feed the seed of worry already growing in the pit of his stomach. There was still a small part of him, the same that had shown itself earlier, that thought maybe this had all just been some wonderful dream, one that Derek would snap out of and realize he didn’t want anything more from Stiles than having him as a member of his pack.

Stiles knew how ridiculous it was for him to even question Derek’s feelings, after all that had happened the previous night and this morning, but things were complicated. Being intimately involved with a werewolf, someone whose emotions ran deep and intensified based on a lunar calendar… well, Stiles had heard enough about the difficulties Lydia and Allison faced, and Stiles had seen enough of it for himself to know it wasn’t going to be a simple walk in the park.

**_Derek:_ **

**We’ll talk when you get here.**

He let out a sigh, running his hand through his hair a few times before tossing his phone down onto the bed. It was only twelve o’clock, which meant he had to kill four hours before he could head over to Derek’s. He managed to sit still for about ten minutes, jotting down what translations he could from the Bestiary, but before long he was fidgeting, tapping his pen impatiently against the notebook while he stared off into space.

Isaac peered over his shoulder more than once and finally, after rolling his eyes, he stood and grabbed Stiles’s book and replaced it with an x-box controller. “Gaming always levels you, right?” Isaac asked, clearly agitated by the incessant drumming. Stiles smiled apologetically, letting his fingers press down on all the buttons in a jerky, random motion. Isaac cringed.

“Yeah, definitely.” He nodded, halting his fingers in their spastic motions. Isaac eyed Stiles wearily for a moment before turning and clicking his television and game console on. The only reason Stiles even had a television in his room was because Best Buy wouldn’t take the stupid thing back after he’d waited too long to return it. Originally meant for Lydia for her sweet sixteen, it now sat in the corner of his bedroom, no cable hooked up, just his old X-Box 360 and playstation, because obviously one gaming console wasn't enough.

Isaac picked out Halo 3; not exactly one of Stiles’s first choices, but it was a decent game, and he’d be able to lose himself in the simplicity of _pointing and shooting_.

They played the campaign for a while, tried online for a couple Slayer games, but the assholes they were playing with accused Isaac of cheating somehow (which having super reflexes due to lycanthropy is a sort of cheat, but fuck them for being douchebags and just assuming someone else could only be better than them if they were hacking) and after a heated argument where choice words made appearances – _fuckhead_ and _douche canoe_ being among the most repeated – Isaac had gotten so worked up that his claws extended and accidentally scratched up the back of his controller.

“Shit dude, sorry!” Instantly Isaac let go of the controller, placing it safely next to him on the bed. Stiles lowered his microphone, reviewing the damage and shrugging.

“It’s cool man. I’ve got plenty of other old spares lying around here somewhere.” He paused, looking back up into Isaac’s eyes to make sure he had the wolf under control. “But maybe we should take this as a sign that we’ve played enough Halo for one day, yeah?” He shut down the console, throwing his controller down next to Isaac’s.

The first thing Stiles did was check his watch. They’d managed to kill a couple of hours, shooting shit. Stiles was exceptionally pleased by that.

Isaac was suspiciously quiet as he stood, his head tilted towards the doorway as if he were listening for something. Stiles was about to ask what was up, but Isaac was already heading towards the door. “I think I should maybe head out.” Before he could exit the room fully, Stiles’s father appeared in the doorway, Melissa close behind him.

“Oh! Isaac, you’re still here.” She smiled, but it seemed a little wary. Isaac ducked his head apologetically.

“Yeah, don’t worry though, just on my way out.” He nodded at the sheriff before throwing a quick glance at Stiles. “I’ll see you later man.” Isaac quickly ducked out of the room, leaving Stiles wondering what the hell was going on. His dad and Melissa were still standing in the doorway idly, exchanging glances that held meaning, which Stiles couldn’t translate. It was like they were having their own private conversation, just with their eyes.

Finally his dad took a deep breath and a step into the room. “Son, there’s something we need to talk about.” He left it hanging in the air like that long enough for Stiles to really start worrying. Was something wrong? Were they in trouble, like maybe with bills, or something? His dad nodded in the direction of Stiles’s bed. “Mind if we have a seat?”

“Uh… go ahead?” Stiles wasn’t sure how he felt about the look his father was giving him, or the one Melissa was trying to hide behind a pleasant smile. Something was definitely up. When they crossed into the room and sat down beside each other at the edge of Stiles’s bed, his father motioned for Stiles to sit as well, but in his desk chair. “What’s this about?” Stiles asked, trying to keep the worry to a minimum.

His dad and Melissa shared another thoughtful look. “We have something that… we want to share with you.” His dad started, but let the silence linger before continuing. Melissa rested her hand on top of his knee, giving him an encouraging squeeze. “We were originally hoping to sit both you and Scott down at the same time, but…” he trailed off and Melissa looked up finally, meeting Stiles’s confused and worried eyes.

“But we’re going to take this one step at a time.” She finished for him. After a long moment the sheriff cleared his throat, grabbing Melissa’s hand tightly in his own.

“Stiles, it’s been a long while since… your mother passed away… it’s just been you and I together, alone. All that changed when the pack started hanging around, and things got complicated, but they’ve settled down now. And… I think it’s time for us to think about… following suit. Settling down.” It took a moment for Stiles to clue in, realize what his father was getting at. Suddenly his heart was in his throat. He barely heard his father say, “Melissa and I have decided it’s time to stop waiting, because I love her. And she loves me. And there’s nothing holding us back from doing this thing except for the past, but we’re starting to think about the future. And it’s a future that I hope her and I, and really all of us, can share together. Which is why,” there was a slight pause; Stiles swallowed, “I’ve asked her to marry me. And she said yes.”

Stiles was glad he was sitting down, otherwise he’d be flat on the floor by now because it felt like the wind was literally knocked right out of him. He was levelled, slowly building towards overwhelmed. His father was looking over at Melissa, a genuinely happy smile smoothing out his aged features.

Stiles was feeling so many things… _too_ many. He wanted to be happy for them, good with his father falling in love again, moving forward with his life. And Stiles loved Melissa, she’d always been there for him and Scott, and the rest of the pack. If there was anyone he would want his father to be with, other than his own mother, it’d be Melissa. She had a heart of gold, and she was fiercely protective of her family. She could be strong and firm, which are definitely two qualities a pack mama needed, but she was also gentle and fair. His father hadn’t been happy in a very long time, and it was thanks to her that he could be now. So of course Stiles wanted them to be together.

But why was he suddenly feeling like all he wanted to do was melt into his chair and disappear?

“That’s great you guys.” He croaked and winced at how raw his voice sounded. Melissa looked up at him, a slight frown furrowing her eyebrows. He tried again, clearing his throat and plastering a smile on his face. “Seriously! I’m happy for you. If you’re happy, I’m happy, so I guess I’m happy.” That didn’t sound quite right either.

“That’s a whole lot use of the word happy, son.” His dad seemed to have deflated a bit, maybe hoping his son’s reaction would’ve been a little more encouraging. Stiles tried, but he didn’t have it in him to face the look of hurt in both his father’s and Melissa’s eyes.

Stiles sighed, running his hand through his hair a few times in frustration. He glanced at his watch and decided he was going to need some time. “Derek’s having a pack meeting, I should head out.” There were still two hours to go until Derek wanted him to be at his apartment, but he needed to get out of there. He stood from his chair, but the two of them remained seated. “Have you told Scott yet?” He asked and Melissa shook her head.

“No, but when he and Allison get home tonight we will be. So if you could keep this to yourself until then, I’d really like to be the one to tell him, okay Stiles?” She stood, wrapping her arms around Stiles and giving him a solid hug. When they parted she looked right in his eyes, a delicate smile on her lips. “I love your father, and I love you Stiles.” She rested her hand on his cheek, giving him a little pat before silently leaving the room.

It was a long, heavy moment before his dad stood and fixed Stiles with a level stare. He opened his mouth but Stiles interrupted before he could say anything. “I just need time, okay? I’ll talk to you later.” He dodged around his father, grabbing his shoulder bag and shoving his notebook, pen, and the Hale bestiary into it before slipping the bag on. He grabbed his keys from the desk and turned, hoping his father would let him leave.

“Don’t think you’re getting off the hook that easily Stiles. When you get home tonight, you and I are going to have a serious discussion.” His dad paused, visibly tensing his jaw. “I think it’s time you and I… talked about her.”

It was at that moment Stiles knew he had to get out of there as quickly as possible, because his throat was so constricted he was afraid he might suffocate. They hadn’t actually talked about his mother… _ever_. After she died the only time his dad even mentioned her was when he was wasted; brain soaked in alcohol and regret and sadness.

Through the years it had gotten a little better, there were some memories that were brighter, ones that made them both smile instead of feel the pain of loss.

Stiles didn’t say anything as he walked out of his room, leaving his father behind him. He kept going until he was in his jeep, pulling out of the driveway, and just… drove. He focused on the road, blanking out all of his thoughts until he found himself in the parking lot of Derek’s apartment building.

He sat there in silence for a while, his head pressed against the steering wheel. So much was changing. In the next couple of years he was going to be back in Beacon Hills, Lydia would be married and living in a town two hours away, his father would be _married_ …

He grabbed tightly on the wheel, trying to calm his heart and focus on steadying his breathing. He could feel the panic rising, gripping at his lungs. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to fight it, only making it worse. Sobs wracked his body as he convulsively gasped for air.

Suddenly he felt a wave of fresh air hit him as the driver’s side door swung open. There was a voice trying to break through the buzzing inside his head, and he reached a hand out, grasping for support. Another hand belonging to someone else wrapped around his own, holding onto him tightly. He buried his face in his arm, struggling to get himself back under control.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

Derek was searching his closet, looking for his old suitcase, when something shifted in the air around him. It was like his spine was itchy, pulling him towards something. He crossed his room and pulled the blinds aside, scanning the lot and almost immediately spotting the old, blue jeep parked outside. He frowned, checking the clock on his bedside table. It was still only two thirty.

He watched the jeep for a while, unable to see who was sitting in it, only that they hadn’t gotten out yet. He contemplated going down, checking in to make sure everything was okay, but there was obviously a reason why Stiles hadn’t made his way up yet.

Derek focused, locking on to Stiles’s familiar heartbeat. It was slightly elevated, which was actually normal for the boy, but it was increased more than usual, and progressively getting higher. Panic rushed over Derek in waves and before he’d even realized it, he was racing out his front door and down to the parking lot, skipping the elevator entirely and charging down the stairs, almost knocking into poor, old Mr. Jenkins on the way down.

He ignored the old man’s profane and inventive use of the word _fucker_ and made it to the jeep in under a minute’s time. As he approached he could see Stiles’s body shaking, his breathing wild and heart frantically thudding at awkward and clumsy intervals. He tore open the door, hearing the hinges creak as he came extremely close to tearing the entire thing off.

He’d seen Stiles have a panic attack only once before, when he thought Scott had died during an attack from a coven of witches they faced a couple years ago. He knew not to touch him, not unless he asked. The only thing he could do was try to ground Stiles, get him to hear his voice and pull himself back.

“Stiles? Stiles! Can you hear me?” Derek asked, searching for any signs of recognition. A hand shot out towards him, fingers trembling. Derek grabbed a hold of it tightly, relaxing only slightly at the contact. “I’m here Stiles, I’m here.” He began to reach out, wanting to soothe Stiles somehow, maybe rub at his back or arm, but he stopped himself.

He stood in silence, helplessly watching as slowly Stiles began to relax. When the shaking had lessened, and Stiles’s heartbeat was nearly steady, Derek leaned in closer and wrapped his arm around the younger man’s shoulder. “Stiles?” He asked quietly, hoping the episode was over. There was a choked off sob in answer. “Do you want to come up to my apartment?”

Stiles finally raised his head and looked over at Derek. Stiles’s eyes were red-rimmed, tears still present and rolling down his cheeks. Derek reached a thumb up, gently wiping at a falling tear. “I’m so sorry Derek.” Stiles said, lips trembling. Derek frowned.

“Why are you apologizing?” He asked, a new panic rising in him.

Stiles sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his free hand; his other still firmly grasped in Derek’s hand. “That attack hit me out of nowhere. M’sorry you had to see that.” Derek breathed out slowly.

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control, Stiles. I’m not sorry that I was here for you, okay? I’m just sorry I couldn’t do anything to help you.” Derek replied, internally struggling with the fact that he hadn’t been able to prevent this from happening. He didn’t know what the cause was, but he should’ve been there for Stiles…

Stiles chuckled, the sound of it a little breathless, and he shook his head. “You’re ridiculous. Listen, Mr. Hero Complex, you _did_ help, okay?” Stiles gave Derek’s hand a tight squeeze before letting his hand slip away. “Just let me get my bag.” He reached over to the seat beside him and scooped up the bag, slipping in his jeep keys before hopping out of the car.

Stiles started walking ahead of Derek towards the apartment building, but Derek caught up to him quickly, so he could reclaim Stiles’s hand in his own. He wasn’t ready to let go just yet. Stiles smiled widely at him, stirring a smile from his own lips.

They walked on in silence, hopping on the elevator and riding it to the sixth floor. When they got to Derek’s apartment, Derek nodded towards the couch. “Want to watch some television while I make something for us to drink?” He let go of Stiles’s hand so he could move into the kitchen. He heard the television click on, and the sound of Stiles’s body dropping down lazily onto the sofa. “Coffee or tea?” Derek called across the apartment, already opening up his cabinet doors.

“Have any hot chocolate?” Stiles’s sweet tooth was probably going to be the death of him.

Derek was smiling fondly as he reached up to retrieve the can of cocoa powder. “Yes Stiles, I have hot chocolate.” He rolled his eyes, like Stiles could see him.

“There’s no such thing as too much hot chocolate on Christmas!” Stiles hollered back and Derek raised a skeptical eyebrow. He was just beginning to pour water into the kettle when he heard Stiles shift from off the couch, quiet footsteps approaching the kitchen. He pretended not to notice Stiles’s presence in the open archway at first, just went about his business of preparing a couple mugs and pulling out a green tea teabag for himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Derek asked gently, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles. The kid looked like he was deep in thought.

“Talk about the panic attack? Or talk about you and me?” Stiles inquired, looking up from the floor and staring intently at Derek from under those dark eyelashes of his.

Derek had almost forgotten that the talk about the two of them, and what it all meant with him going off to visit his uncle’s pack, was one of the main reasons he’d asked Stiles to come over earlier. “I’d like to know what made you so upset, but only if you’re comfortable with discussing it. Later we’ll talk about us, okay?” Derek wasn’t even sure if he’d bring it up later.

The complications of it all _could_ be sorted out, but Stiles had just gone through a panic attack, and Derek having to leave for a week might trigger another one. And that’s the complete opposite of what Derek wanted to come out of having that conversation.

Stiles was silent for a moment as the water boiled noisily. He shrugged, making a grunting sound. “I don’t know. I guess it was just sort of a lot of things all hitting me at once.” He let out a huff of frustration as his hands idly scrubbed through his hair, making it jut out messily in random places. Derek thought it was adorable.

“Anything I can help with?” He asked, crossing the room and sliding his hands around Stiles’s waist to pull him into a comforting hug. Stiles buried his face into Derek’s shoulder.

“No.” Stiles answered, his voice low and muffled. “Thanks though.” Derek rubbed soothing circles on Stiles’s back, hoping he could at least distract Stiles enough that the scent of stress would disappear. It was slowly becoming fainter and fainter, but it lingered longer than Derek would’ve liked. They remained within each other’s arms until the water had finished boiling, and Derek went to pour them their drinks.

Stiles sidled up closely behind him, resting his hands on Derek’s hips and leaning his body up against Derek’s back. Soft lips grazed the back of Derek’s neck, hovering close enough that his nerves were definitely interested in what was going on. When Stiles finally rested his lips on Derek’s neck, Derek’s eyes slid closed.

“You’re going to make me spill hot water on myself.” Derek murmured as he set the kettle down on the counter. He’d managed to pour one mug full, but there were splashes of water pooling around the mug. Stiles’s lips were smiling against his neck.

“Good. Payback for earlier.” Stiles said, and the kisses increased as he trailed to the side of Derek’s throat. Derek fought against the small urge to pull away, the wolf wanting to assert its dominance, rather than submit to Stiles’s lips. Instead he leaned into it, tilting his head even more to bare his neck. He knew Stiles wouldn’t do anything to hurt him.

There was a subtle hesitation before Stiles leaned over and placed a kiss on the exposed skin. The contact sent a shiver through Derek’s spine. He tried to compose himself, biting the inside of his cheek and opening his eyes, staring intently at the fuzzy reflection of Stiles in the stainless steel surface of the kettle.

“Payback?” Derek asked, swiftly turning so he was facing Stiles and he could wrap his hands around Stiles's hips. Stiles nodded and pulled down the hood of his sweater, revealing the stubble burns and large hickey Derek had left that morning. He smiled, and he knew how smug it was, which is why he didn’t protest when Stiles grew irritated and started working on getting his payback.

As Stiles’s lips and tongue explored the side of Derek’s neck, Derek’s hands explored the very nice curve of Stiles’s ass. Derek inhaled sharply as soon as he felt the pressure of Stiles’s teeth sinking gently into his skin, hard enough it was probably going to leave a mark.

“ _Stiles_.” Derek whimpered, grabbing tightly onto Stiles’s hips and flipping them around so that he was pushing Stiles up against the counter. Stiles squeaked his surprise, unlatching from Derek’s neck. Derek wanted to go over the marks he’d made, kiss and soothe them, but as he leaned in closer Stiles reached a hand up and rested it on Derek’s chest to keep him away.

“Excuse me, I’m trying to get payback here.” He laughed, placing his hands over top of Derek’s and linking their fingers together. His eyes were fixed on the point where he’d been working on making a mark, but Derek knew anything that would’ve been there was already healed. He could still feel it though, like a burn underneath his skin, and that feeling would last longer than any visible mark ever would. “Are you serious? You get to mark me up and I don’t get to retaliate?” Stiles groaned, resting his forehead on Derek’s shoulder in defeat.

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “Come on.” He nudged Stiles’s head with his own, getting the younger boy to look up at him. “I’m sure you’ll think of some way to get your revenge. Until then, let me get our drinks and we’ll snuggle up on the couch until the others get here.” Stiles took a step away from Derek, an incredulous look on his face.

“Did you just actually use the word _snuggle_?” Stiles asked, teasing. Derek gave him a deadpan look. “Alright, alright. But before you abuse me I’d just like to say that that’s adorable.” Derek playfully swatted at the back of Stiles’s head, eliciting a fake moan of pain. “Rude.”

Derek bumped his hips against Stiles’s, shooing him out of the kitchen so he could go back to pouring their drinks. Before he turned back to the counter he watched Stiles leave the room – or, well, he watched Stiles’s _ass_ leave the room. “Stop staring at my ass!” Stiles hollered over his shoulder. Derek smirked.

He finished up mixing the hot chocolate and carried it into the living room, setting it on the table in front of Stiles. The television was tuned onto the news channel, where a fluff piece was being delivered by a very fluffy looking news reporter. “Is there anything else on?” Derek asked, leaning on the back of the couch behind Stiles.

Stiles craned his neck to look up at Derek, exposing his neck and causing Derek to lose focus for a moment. Which is why he didn’t hear most of what Stiles attempted to say to him. When Stiles’s lips stopped moving, Derek’s eyes were finally able to pull away from them and meet the amused gaze of Stiles. “Did you even hear anything I just said? Or were you too busy assaulting my neck with your eyes?”

Derek wanted to deny it, but instead he just shrugged. There was no point in lying to Stiles, not anymore. He leaned over, kissing at Stiles’s lower lip before sucking on it a little, just enough to hear the content sigh it pulled from Stiles. “I don’t like your condescending tone.” Derek murmured, leaning away so he could raise an eyebrow at Stiles.

Stiles rolled his eyes, raising a hand and resting it on the back of Derek’s neck, pulling him back down for another kiss. “Condescending? No. More like calling you out on your shit, Mr. Big Bad Alpha.” Stiles replied, his lips moving against Derek’s as he spoke.

Derek straightened out, grabbing Stiles’s hand from the back of his neck and letting it fall away from him. “Just put something else on.” Derek replied and then made his way back into the kitchen to retrieve his now steeped tea. He pulled out the teabag and discarded it before taking a small sip of the steaming hot drink.

When he re-entered the living room the first thing he noticed was the movie that Stiles had switched to. “Last I checked _Tropic Thunder_ isn’t exactly a Christmas special.” He plopped down on the couch next to Stiles, setting his hot mug down before wrapping an arm around the other man, pulling him in nice and close. Stiles squirmed a little, fitting himself more comfortably under Derek’s arm, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder.

“Yeah, well, it should be. It’s totally festive enough.” Stiles reached over and grabbed a hold of Derek’s hand, intertwining their fingers and resting them comfortably on Derek’s leg.

“What are you talking about? Have you even seen this movie?” Derek chuckled. The movie was practically at the beginning, just passed the fake movie previews for each of the starring actors and on the scene where Ben Stiller’s character is being dramatically shot a billion times by the Vietnamese war soldiers. It was a ridiculous scene, in an equally ridiculous movie, and by the time it was over Stiles was probably going to be reciting the one-liners from the movie on a daily basis for the next week or so.

“‘ _Cover me you limp-dick fuckers!_ ’” Stiles chirped happily, along with Robert Downey Jr.’s character. Derek rolled his eyes, though it was done fondly and in amusement. “How do you not love this movie?” Stiles asked in wonder. Derek shrugged.

“Not a fan of Stiller.” He answered. As they continued watching the movie, Stiles knew most of the lines and chattered on excitedly. Derek watched him carefully, silently reassuring himself that Stiles was feeling better and that he wouldn’t relapse. Since most of his focus was on Stiles – watching his exuberant reactions to the explosions and banter happening on screen, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and laughing at how into the movie he got – the movie passed by relatively quickly.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, it was just finishing up, the closing credits rolling with Tom Cruise dancing it out like a boss. Derek heard Erica, Boyd, and Isaac as they made their way towards his apartment, picking their voices out almost immediately after they stepped out of the elevator.

Derek removed his arm from Stiles’s shoulder and stood so he could greet them at the door. Stiles got up too, following Derek closely behind. Erica didn’t even knock, just opened the door and walked right in, leading Boyd and Isaac in behind her.

“This meeting better be important, and quick. Boyd’s grandmother looked pissed that we were leaving before dinner, and that is one woman I’m not about to offend.” Erica announced, hugging Stiles and Derek before stomping passed them and sprawling out on the couch.

Boyd pulled an unimpressed face. “Grammy is sweeter than sugar.” He stated, like that was the end to the argument Derek wasn’t even sure they were having. Erica sat up instantly, glaring at Boyd.

“ _Grammy_ basically just spent an _entire hour_ asking me when you and I were going to get married, and when I was going to have your babies, and that we _have to_ name one of them _Nelson_ after your grandfather.” She sounded exasperated, throwing a hand to her forehead as she fell backwards on the couch, out of view.

Boyd breathed out, nodding towards Derek as greeting before crossing the room to continue this little discussion more heatedly and in hushed tones. Stiles was frowning, seemingly lost in thought, and Isaac was watching Stiles with a worried expression on his face.

Derek frowned curiously, hoping to exchange silently with Isaac, but Isaac just shrugged, shaking his head. “Scott called. He and Allison will be a little late.” Isaac nodded towards Stiles, who was finally present enough to make his own greeting.

“Hear anything from Lydia?” He asked, and Isaac shook his head, still fixing Stiles with that worried gaze. Stiles seemed to deflate a little. “Okay. I think I’m gonna go downstairs and wait for her.” He took a step to leave but Derek grabbed his wrist, catching him before he could disappear. Isaac seemed to understand they needed a moment, so he quickly made his own escape, excusing himself to use the washroom.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Derek didn’t want Stiles to be alone, not so soon after a panic attack. Stiles just shrugged, not meeting Derek’s searching gaze.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be okay.” Stiles answered, and his heart gave a little stutter. He wasn’t going to be fine, and he _did_ want Derek to go with him, Derek just wasn’t sure if he should listen to Stiles’s mouth or his heart. Derek’s grip around Stiles’s wrist tightened. Stiles closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before reopening them and lifting his chin so he could give Derek a stern look. “I promise. I just need some time to myself, okay? I’ll come back up with Lydia and Jackson.”

It took Derek a moment, but he slowly let go of Stiles’s wrist. “Alright. If you need me I’ll be right here, okay?” Stiles gave him a small smile and nodded.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

**_Stiles:_ **

**When are you getting to Derek’s? I really need to talk.**

Stiles sent the message while he was in the elevator, making his slow descent to the lobby. He’d hit all the buttons, travelling to the top floor before hitting every other floor on the way down. Being in the confined space with little noise to distract him felt really good, but when the doors finally opened and revealed the front lobby, he was glad to be on his way out of the building and into the fresh air.

His phone buzzed as soon as he was outside.

**_Lydia:_ **

**If you need to talk, talk to Derek. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to listen to your problems, Stiles.**

Stiles breathed out his frustrations, taking a moment to settle his flaring temper before replying to her.

**_Stiles:_ **

**No Lyds, I need you right now, please.**

Having only Lydia there to comfort him at Berkeley had really solidified their bond, and sometimes he just needed to talk to Lydia. She understood him at times when even Scott had trouble with dealing with whatever Stiles was feeling.

And besides all that, besides the fact that she was Stiles’s _best friend_ , and she always gave him the stone hard truth; Lydia could relate. Both her parents had remarried, and though it wasn’t exactly the same thing, it was close enough that he knew she would empathize with him.

**_Lydia:  
_ **

**We’ll be there in five minutes.**

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and leaned against the brick wall of the building. He shoved his hands into his hoodie’s pockets and drew the hood up around his face, staring down at the ground and trying to lose himself in the buzz of his mind. He closed his eyes, sifting through images and thoughts, all to avoid the real issue.

Lydia and Jackson showed up in precisely four minutes and thirty eight seconds. Lydia climbed out of the driver’s seat and went directly to Stiles, while Jackson gave them a slight nod of his head before passing them by and heading up to the apartment.

Lydia must’ve sensed Stiles’s distress, because instead of snarking him, she rested a hand on his shoulder and waited for him to look up at her. Then she pulled him into a tight hug, letting him sink into her. “What’s wrong sweetie?” She only called him sweetie when she was trying to console him.

He pulled away so he could look at her. It took a moment before he convinced himself he should talk about it, get his thoughts out there so he could deal with them instead of his usual philosophy of ignoring the problem until it went away.

“My dad and Melissa are… _engaged_.” Stiles had trouble getting the word out, because it got caught in his throat along with a little bit of his heart. Lydia’s eyes widened, and a slow smile spread on her lips. It was clear she was pleased with the news, and who wouldn’t be, right? When she noticed Stiles wasn’t as excited as her, she frowned.

“Stiles. Don’t tell me _this_ is how you reacted when they told you they’re getting married.” She crossed her arms and stared at him with such a stern look it felt like he was five years old again, getting scolded by his father, or his teacher.

He threw his hands up in frustration, slapping them back down on his thighs. “What was I supposed to do Lydia? Jump for joy? Volunteer to plan the wedding for them?” He asked, wishing she’d just understand and side with him. Her frown only deepened.

“You tell them how happy you are for them, and that it’s about time.” She shook her head, shrugging. “This is why you’re so upset?” She scoffed, throwing her hair over her shoulder and pinching her lips in a way that made her cheeks look hollowed out.

Stiles’s heart stuttered. “No, that’s not why I’m upset, Lydia. I’m upset because… _because_ …” He trailed off, still finding it hard to really say what he’d been holding in. She waited patiently, still looking a little peeved about Stiles’s whole reaction. He sighed, defeated. “I miss my mom, okay? And I never really… I never thought my dad would ever… _replace her_.” Stiles hated he even thought of it that way, because he knew that wasn’t it.

Melissa wasn’t a replacement. It wasn’t like his dad was filling his mom’s space in his heart with Melissa and pretending like the hole Stiles’s mother left had never been there. Melissa had made her own space, and not once had she ever acted like she was Stiles’s mom. Sure, Melissa was by nature a very maternal, caring person, and Stiles had seen her as his second mother, even while his own was still alive.

But it still hurt to be reminded that his mom – the woman who’d raised him until he was fourteen, supported him and loved him and held him when he was scared – was no longer alive.

A subtle hint of acknowledgement flashed across Lydia’s eyes, and her entire stature shifted to something softer. She uncrossed her arms and instead took Stiles's hands in her own. “I’m sorry… I didn’t realize…” She trailed off, her apology being communicated in the tenderness of her eyes. Stiles took a deep breath, squeezing her hands tightly in his own.

“It’s okay, I just… sometimes I really, _really_ miss her. Like, I mean… I know that she’s in a better place now, where ever that is, and she’s not in pain anymore, and that’s just… That’s all I ever wanted… But it’s hard.” He was getting choked up again, could feel the tears building behind his eyes. He made a move to wipe at his face, but Lydia wrapped her arms around him and gave him another hug, trapping his arms under hers.

“It’s alright sweetie, I’m sorry I didn’t get it at first.” They stood there hugging in silence for a while. It felt good, letting it all out with Lydia helping to support him. When he finally did pull away, his face was a mess of tears, and his nose was running, and he probably looked even more blotchy and worse than before. “Your dad will always love your mom, okay? But he has a really good chance to be _happy_ again, Stiles. He loves Melissa, and that’ll never change the fact that he loved your mom, but he loves her too. I know it’ll be hard. It’s never easy. But you have me, and you have Scott,” she paused, looking thoughtfully at Stiles’s neck, “and you have Derek. You have the whole pack. We are all here for you, okay?”

Stiles nodded, trying to wipe his face on his hoodie’s sleeve. “I know. I want him to be happy, and I want Melissa to be happy, but I guess I just… wasn’t ready.” He sighed, laughing a little. “Well, it doesn’t really matter much if I’m not ready, they definitely are. And that’s good, it really is. And I’ll get there too. Just need some time.” He smiled meekly and Lydia wrapped her arm around his shoulders.

They began walking back towards the entrance of the building. “When we get back to Berkeley I’m buying us a tub of Ben and Jerry’s and we’re watching the Notebook.” She vowed, making Stiles laugh. The Notebook apparently cured every kind of heart ache.

As they were walking through the front doors Stiles heard his name being called from the parking lot. He turned to see Scott and Allison hopping out of their car, and beside them Danny getting out of his. He quickly pulled Lydia closer to him. “Don’t tell anyone else yet, okay? I promised not to say anything until they could tell Scott themselves.” Stiles was careful not to say anything more, in case Scott could hear him. Lydia nodded her understanding.

Scott bounded towards them, almost knocking Stiles over with a hug. “Hey bro! Sorry we’re late, Allison’s dad was pretty adamant about testing Allison’s archery skills to make sure she hasn’t gotten stale or anything.” Allison trailed after Scott, with Danny by her side.

“Your father makes you shoot things on Christmas?” Lydia asked, linking her arm through with Allison’s. Allison shrugged, looking a little uncomfortable.

“Yeah, Argent holidays are never dull, that’s for sure.” She smiled, halfway between awkward and hopeful that this particular conversation was at its end. The five of them went inside and headed up. Stiles remained relatively quiet until Danny nudged him and nodded at Stiles’s neck.

“I’ve heard you can use a spoon to get rid of those.” Danny smirked as Stiles visibly reddened. He brought a hand up to the marks, partially covering them and wincing at the tingles of pain shooting through his sensitive skin.

“Thanks Danny, that’s super helpful.” Stiles wasn’t even going to ask. Danny just shrugged, exiting out the opening elevator doors. Lydia and Allison left too, still arm and arm and giggling about something. Scott was standing in the small space with Stiles, staring at him with an odd expression. “What?” He asked, a little impatient.

Scott was staring at the marks. “Are you and Derek, like, together now?” Scott asked, his voice small. Stiles sighed, exasperated. He patted Scott’s back consolingly, bringing them out of the elevator and following the others.

“Buddy, when I know you’ll be the first one I tell, okay?” Stiles answered, hoping that would in some way reassure Scott. Scott smiled a little, but kept staring until they were walking through Derek’s apartment door and everyone was greeting them.

Stiles looked around, searching for Derek when he didn’t see him in the living room with the others or in the kitchen. He sat down on the sectional couch, next to Erica, who instantly wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.

A few minutes later, while everyone was still talking, Derek emerged from his bedroom carrying a suitcase. Stiles frowned, already not feeling very optimistic about where this was going. Derek crossed the room, setting the bag down in the center and waiting for everyone to look over at him. He met each of their curious stares, lingering on Stiles’s the longest with a conflicted expression clouding his gaze.

“The main reason I called you all here, is to tell you that I’m going to be visiting Peter in a week.” He started, and Stiles’s heart instantly fell. He fucking _knew_ it. “I’m not going long, maximum a week, to help out with a little problem. Obviously this means you’ll be without an Alpha for a while, but I trust you guys, and it’s never really been too much of a problem before when I’ve visited there. Just means while I’m gone you’ll all have to look out for each other, which you already do.”

Isaac groaned. “Derek, the last time you visited that asshole the whole time you were away I had to physically hold myself back from _running_ across the entire _country_ to get to you.” Before pack life Stiles would’ve called that weird and unhealthy, but something about werewolf bonds for anyone in the pack intensified the want of unity and closeness.

Only living two hours away Stiles could feel it every single day, which is why he knew that when he was done with Berkeley he’d be moving back to Beacon Hills to be with the pack. Even if it meant a less pristine job and pay. It’s also why he knew he’d miss Lydia so goddamned much, and Jackson, when they stayed behind so she could work in the Sandia Laboratories.

Most of the pack murmured their agreement, causing Derek to frown. “I know, it was just as bad for me as it was for you guys. But I already told Peter I’d help.”

Stiles scoffed. “So call him back and tell him that you won’t.” Obviously that was the only thing to do. Derek looked over at him, expression softening.

“I can’t. If I back out now the other pack will take it as a personal offence.” Derek tried, but Stiles honestly didn’t care if the other pack would cry themselves to sleep every night, Derek was not going even further away from Stiles than he already was.

“Boo-freaking-hoo for them then. What’re they gonna do? File a complaint? Leave an angry voicemail on your phone?” Stiles asked and Erica snickered. Derek shot her a dark look, his eyes flashing red. Her entire body froze and she slowly peeled herself off of Stiles, who was watching the interaction in total confusion.

When Erica was practically on the other end of the couch, Derek looked back at Stiles, his eyes no longer glowing. “No, they’d consider any sort of invasion on their territory from us as hostile and an act of war, and if we ever needed their help, they’d ignore us and let us die. So I think the only solution here is to do as my uncle asks and lend a hand.”

“Lend a hand with what exactly? Rounding up some witches? Taking down a rogue werewolf? Or does Peter need help stalking some poor girl who rejected him?” Stiles asked, getting angry. Derek scratched the back of his head, taking his dear sweet time in answering. “Well?”

Derek sighed. “They’ve got some vampires messing around in their territory. I’m just going there to see what I can do to help.” Stiles’s brain stalled on the word _vampires_. That was something they’d never heard of before. Well, obviously they’d _heard_ of vampires before – Van Helsing, Underworld, Nosferatu, Vlad the Impaler, etc. – but Stiles hadn’t been sure that they actually existed.

“Vampires? Seriously? Holy shit!” Isaac exclaimed, sitting up straighter in his seat. Derek nodded solemnly.

“Okay, are we talking Stephenie Meyer’s vampires? Or more Anne Rice?” Lydia asked, intrigued.

“I don’t know for sure. Peter wasn’t exactly… clear on the details.” Derek admitted. Stiles felt his heart begin to pick up as a surge of irritation rose up inside of him.

“Not clear on the details. Hmm. Doesn’t that sound a little bit like it’s a fucking trap and you’re going to get yourself in a lot of fucking trouble because you have no idea what you’re dealing with?” Stiles growled, and everyone in the room turned their eyes on him.

“Stiles. I’m going to have people there watching my back.” Derek was talking in his soothing tone, which somehow seemed to piss Stiles off even more.

“Oh, yeah, totally. You’ve got your sociopathic, borderline _psychotic_ uncle, a cousin you barely even know, and a _rival pack_ that you know even _less_ about. And anyone who decides to take in Peter has got to be _insane_. So, you know what? Yeah. Not really feeling the warm and fuzzies about you putting your life in the hands of people we barely know.” Stiles had stood up somewhere in the middle of his rant. His fists were shaking, and he was still feeling a bit out of it from the panic attack earlier.

Derek took a step towards him, reaching a hand out but pausing midair as if unsure if Stiles would even accept the gesture. Stiles ground his teeth together, lifting his own hand and letting Derek hold it gently in his own.

“I trust Aria, and I’ve met the rest of her pack before. I’ll be okay.” Derek said, trying to reassure him. Stiles still wasn’t convinced though.

“You’re just going for a week, right?” Stiles asked and Derek nodded. “Okay, then take someone with you. School doesn’t start up for another couple of weeks, and I’m sure Allison, or any one of us with a job can get a week off from work.”

“I agree, you shouldn’t go alone.” Boyd added, and a few of the others nodded. Lydia looked thoughtful, glancing between Stiles and Derek.

Derek had a stubborn look on his face though, the same one he got when anyone asked to borrow the Camaro. _Shit fuck shit_ , Stiles growled to himself, because Derek wasn’t going to budge and this was ridiculous.

“They only extended the invitation to me.” Derek stated, fixing Stiles with a hard look.

“Oh, so if they only invited you to jump off a cliff into a pit of ravenous rattle snakes I guess you’d have to agree to that too, so you didn’t hurt any werewolf feelings.” Stiles mocked, and Derek’s expression grew sour.

“You know what? This isn’t open for debate. I told Peter I’d go, so I’m going.” Derek growled, threateningly close to bringing out the Alpha eyes.

Stiles felt anger and worry twisting in his gut. “Oh, so that’s it. The Alpha has the final say and that’s that.” Everyone was silent. Derek didn’t even have to answer, because yeah, the Alpha _did_ have the final say. There were times, in the beginning of their relationship as a pack, that Stiles challenged Derek’s decision making skills on a daily basis. Mostly he’d learned to trust Derek, because Derek had learned along the way to compromise and lead, rather than boss around and try and push everyone in the direction he wanted to go. Right now Stiles was seeing the old, reserved Derek returning, and he was so done with not being listened to. “You know what? Whatever. You want to get your ass killed? Fine. I’ve got other shit I have to deal with.”

Stiles wrenched his hand away from Derek's, wrestling with the urge to stomp out the door and the urge to sit back down and try to appeal to the _present_ Derek. The one that joked around with Stiles, and opened up about his past, and held Stiles’s hand, and made him hot cocoa.

Derek’s eyes flashed towards Lydia, an indiscernible scowl rising to his face. “You take all the time and space you need to come to terms with my decision, and when you’re ready to talk to me, then you can come find me.”

Yep. Stiles was definitely leaving. So much for having that talk about what was going on between them, because clearly it wasn’t important enough to stop Derek from being such a stubborn asshole, and _leaving_ to go to another country for an entire week. Which yes, Stiles knew he was coming back, but only if he didn’t get killed in the process.

“You two are actually being ridiculous. Stiles, sit your fucking ass down and cool off.” Erica ordered, standing up and bringing Boyd with her. “Boyd and I are going back to Grammy’s. Isaac, you’re welcome to join us.” Isaac shot up instantly, apparently more than ready to leave.

“Aww! No! You can’t steal Isaac! He promised to come back to our place and chill with me.” Scott whined and Allison was nodding her head beside him.

“You two get to see Isaac all the time, it’s our turn. Isaac,” she stood, drawing Scott up by his hand, “you’re coming with us.” She grabbed a hold of Isaac too, dragging the two of them behind her as she bee-lined it to the door.

“Hey! I never said the meeting was done!” Derek growled, and all eyes turned back to him. Stiles ignored him, crossing his arms and staring hard at the wall.

Allison paused. “Okay, is there anything else we need to know?” She asked, her voice a lot calmer than his. Derek frowned, scrunching up his nose as he thought about it. He opened his mouth a couple times, clicking it shut when nothing came out.

“No…” he sighed, “I guess, just Merry Christmas everyone. Hope your day was good.” He shot a quick glance at Stiles, which Stiles refused to acknowledge, before the broody wolf retired to his bedroom and everyone else began to file out. Stiles was about to join them all in their departure when suddenly Lydia was crowding his space.

“Where do you think you’re going?” She asked, blocking the doorway and restricting his exit.

“Home. I’m tired Lydia.” Stiles lied, because he was actually super awake right now and he had a shit ton of leftover spiked energy from all that had happened that day. He wanted to go for a long walk, alone, so he could zone out and think about _whatever_.

Lydia rolled her eyes, pushing him towards Derek’s bedroom door, which is definitely the opposite direction Stiles wanted to be heading in. “Don’t you dare think about leaving things with him like _that_. I know you’re a guy Stiles, but seriously, stop being such a dick.” She gave him one final push, and holy damn she was strong when she wanted to be; she managed to knock him into the wall next to the door. “Talk to him.” She ordered, and she locked her jaw in place, her hands firmly on her hips.

She wasn’t going to back down, which meant Stiles was going to be forced to talk to Derek one way or another. He swallowed hard. “Fine.” He replied in defeat, but kept his head held high as he fumbled over the doorknob and stumbled into the room.

Derek was standing over by his bed, looking perplexed and deep in a thought that Stiles didn’t want to interrupt. He sat down quietly at the foot of Derek’s bed, waiting in the dark room for Derek to acknowledge his presence.

“You’re still angry at me.” Derek observed as he side glanced at Stiles.

“Yeah, I am.” Stiles agreed and said nothing more. Derek frowned, growing quiet again. It was a long moment before Derek crossed over and sat down beside Stiles on the bed.

“I have to do this Stiles, I’m sorry you don’t think it’s the right thing, but I do.” Derek asserted, but his voice was a lot softer than it had been before.

“And you can’t bring Boyd or Isaac, or anyone else along?” Stiles asked, hoping Derek’s answer would change, that maybe he’d heard wrong the first time.

Derek shook his head. “Peter didn’t say anything about it being okay for me to bring someone along with me.” Stiles didn’t actual care about what Peter said or didn’t say, because Peter was a dickhead whose opinion didn’t matter when it came to Derek’s safety. He was about to say just that when Derek spoke again. “I can ask, okay? I’ll call him back and get some more details. Would that make you feel better?”

Stiles frowned in surprise. “What? You’re actually considering it?”

Derek smiled, shaking his head. “Yes, but I’m not making any promises. I’m still going, no matter what.” He said evenly. Stiles decided that was good enough, for now. He reached out, grabbing Derek’s hand and resting his head against Derek’s shoulder. He nestled in, trying to imitate scent marking as best he could, even if he was only human.

Derek rumbled his approval, nudging gently back. “So is this the part where we get to have makeup sex?” Stiles asked, half-jokingly. Derek jerked away, suddenly having a coughing fit. Stiles patted his back, smirking. “Glad I can take your breath away.”

“You can’t just _do that_.” Derek whimpered, still trying to catch his breath. Stiles laughed maniacally.

“Oh I totally can. Just did.” Stiles replied easily, quite pleased with himself. Derek growled and pounced, knocking Stiles over back onto the bed. “This again?” Stiles asked, and instantly Derek was latching onto his neck. “ _No!_ Derek, I fucking… _Derek!_ ” Stiles squirmed, trying to get the brute off of him. “No more marking! Jesus Christ! Can you at least let me heal first? _Fuck_.” And it really wasn’t fair just how turned on Stiles was getting.

He was still supposed to be at least a little angry at Derek. Giving him sexy times would be like rewarding him for being a stubborn jerk. Derek’s lips delivered delicate kisses on every spot he’d left a mark. Sometimes his tongue would lick gently, soothing the raw skin, before placing his lips once more against the spot.

Stiles sighed, letting his eyes close as he sank deeper into a sort of relaxation. His dick was more than a little interested in what was going on, but it was under strict orders that it get no ideas about trying to escalate this situation any further.

“As much as I really like this, I think I have to go.” Stiles said, hoping Derek didn’t hear him, or would just ignore him and kidnap him for the rest of the night so he wouldn’t have to face his father. Derek, always the gentleman, leaned away and waited for Stiles to continue. Stiles only hesitated a moment longer before deciding on what he was going to say. “My dad wants to talk about… my mom. Because he sorta told me that him and Melissa are, like, engaged. To be married. And I didn’t exactly react well.”

He watched for the moment Derek would realize how selfish he was being, by not being happy for his dad. Instead of a sneer, or a simple shrug, Derek frowned, nodding a little. “I can see why that’d be difficult.” Stiles looked over at him, a little surprised. Even Lydia hadn’t even been that cool about it.

Stiles leaned over, grabbing the back of Derek’s head and giving him the deepest kiss Stiles had ever given anyone before, because his heart had sort of lodged itself in his throat trying to throw itself at Derek’s stupidly perfect _everything_.

He hadn’t really thought about it, but Derek understood even better than Lydia. Derek knew what it was like to have a parent pass away – Derek’s _entire family_ in his case – and not want to talk about it. Stiles rarely heard Derek mention Laura’s name, or anything about his family or his other deceased family members.

So, yeah. Derek totally got it. Why hadn’t Stiles seen that before?

When he pulled away he rested a hand on Derek’s cheek, holding his gaze. “I seriously have to go now.” He said, and Derek brought a hand up to rest on top of Stiles’s, holding on tightly as if he were trying to say he didn’t want Stiles to leave. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” He gave Derek another kiss, and another one… and maybe just one more for good measure.

He stood to leave but Derek was still holding his hand tightly. “Let me know how it goes? I’ll be here all night if you need me.” Derek said, kissing the back of Stiles’s hand.

Yeah, leaving, right now. Before Stiles's heart held him back from ever leaving Derek's side ever again. “Yes, okay, okay! Thank you. Goodbye.” Stiles tried but Derek’s grip didn’t loosen. “If you don’t let me go right now I swear I’m gonna-,” he tried to threaten but Derek pulled him swiftly on his lap and erased the surprised yelp from Stiles with his lips. Stiles pulled away, groaning. “Dude!” He poked at Derek’s sides, surprising himself when Derek twitched away from the touch and held his breath. Stiles grinned evilly.

Derek saw it, and visibly grew a little paler. “No. Stiles. Don’t.” Derek warned, finally letting Stiles’s hand go and pushing him to his feet, ushering him towards the door.

Stiles reached out towards Derek’s side again, and Derek’s hand shot out to stop him. “Are you _ticklish_?” Stiles asked and Derek grunted. “How did I not _know this_ , _oh my god_.” Derek grabbed both of Stiles’s hands, securing them and keeping them well away from his sides.

“You’re an absolute child.” Derek said, exasperated. Stiles just smirked.

“And you lo-… like me. You like me Derek. So hah. Joke's on you.” Stiles very nearly swallowed his own tongue, because he almost just said that Derek _loved_ him, and that would’ve been awkwardly embarrassing. It still pretty much was though, considering the trip up hadn’t exactly been subtle, and now Derek was sort of frozen and Stiles was afraid he might’ve broken him. Taking the opportunity he weaseled his hands out of Derek’s grip and declared war on Derek’s sides, tickling him into submission.

Derek was laughing, and growling a little, by the time Stiles was satisfied he’d scared all the embarrassment away. Finally he ended his assault and darted towards the door, not giving Derek a chance to reciprocate.

“See you later, Alpha.” Stiles winked at him and slipped out the door, not stopping until he was fully out of Derek’s apartment and in the elevator, the doors shut firmly behind him.

It really said something about him, that he was leaving behind _Derek Hale_ to go and have a talk with his father. It was like he was becoming a glorified adult or something.

Stiles laughed out loud at that thought. Yeah, right. An adult.

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and Stiles stopped laughing. “You really thought you’d get away with that, huh?” Derek asked, lifting an eyebrow. The sly curl in Derek’s lips made Stiles gulp. How the fuck was it even fair that werewolves could run down the stairs and beat the elevator?

Derek joined Stiles in the elevator, crowding up his space and backing him into the wall. He grabbed at the collar of Stiles’s hoodie, bunching it up in his fist, still smirking. He pulled the fabric down, revealing the bare skin of Stiles’s collarbone.

Derek sucked hard at the skin, sending an array of sparks through Stiles’s body – pain and pleasure mingling together like they were one and the same. When Derek finally pulled back, releasing his hold on Stiles’s hoodie, Stiles glared at Derek.

Derek winked. “See you later, Stilinski.” And he started to walk away.

Stiles could be an adult later. Right now he had an Alpha to tackle and tickle mercilessly.


	8. Chapter 8

His dad was waiting for him when he got home. Stiles had taken his sweet time driving to the house, hoping that by the time he finally showed up they’d all be sitting down for dinner. Allison’s car wasn’t in the driveway though, and that didn’t bode well for him.

“Where’s everyone else?” Stiles asked as calmly as he could manage. At least his voice didn’t squeak.

His father nodded at the front door. “They went out for dinner, celebrating the news of my engagement.” His dad stood from his chair with a small grunt of effort. He grabbed one of the beers resting on the end table and held it out to Stiles. “So, son, are you going to tell me why you weren’t exactly thrilled that Melissa and I are tying the knot?”

Stiles accepted the offered beer, hoping the small percentage of alcohol would make this conversation a little bit easier to swallow. He took a long swig of it, his father watching him with careful but sharp eyes. When he lowered the bottle away from his lips he took a deep breath to steady his heart and focus his breathing and thoughts.

“I miss mom.” He croaked, wincing at how wrecked he already sounded. They hadn’t even started yet and he was already on the verge of breaking down. He felt his knees already beginning to weaken, just as his heart was sinking.

His father caught him before he could fall, wrapping his arms tightly around his son and keeping them both upright. Stiles collapsed into his father, letting the flow of all his emotions out and soaking his father’s shirt with tears.

His heart felt like it was being ripped out from his chest, his ribcage breaking along with it. It was like everything he’d tried not to feel – everything he’d pushed behind walls and ignored, hoping that in time they’d heal – all of it was washing over him now, wave after wave crashing into him, pulling back only to allow another fresh wave to hit him.

He used his father as an anchor this time, to keep him from undergoing another panic attack. Two in one day would’ve left him exhausted and broken. But he held on tight, didn’t fight to hold in anything. When he was under control enough to breathe in and out without choking on a sob, he finally pulled away so he could look at his father.

His dad was crying too, his eyes red and puffy. “I love you dad. I love you, and I want you to be happy. And I love Melissa, okay? But she’s not _mom_.” Stiles’s voice broke on the word, and his dad pulled him back for another long, almost crushing hug.

“I know. I know you miss her. I miss her too. But she would’ve wanted you to be happy, Stiles. She told me, when she was in the hospital…” His dad trailed off, his voice straining. It was a long minute before he could speak again. “When she was in the hospital, when we knew she only had a few days left with us. She told me not to mourn her. That if I ever had the chance, she wanted me to move on. And… I was just… I got so angry at her. Because it was like she was giving up on fighting the cancer, like she was resigned to her fate.”

Stiles remembered those last days spent at his mother’s side, watching her slowly wither away, right in front of him. For a while it was those memories that were sharpest in his mind – the tubes, the medication, the stark smell of hospital – but he knew she didn’t want him to remember her that way. There was a picture of the two of them together, taken when Stiles was still only a kid and his mother was still vibrant and healthy, and smiling. She’d had her arms wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing so tightly that every time Stiles looked at the picture now on his desk back at his student apartment, he could still feel the embrace.

That was her favourite picture of them, because Stiles had been smiling up at her, a gap in his teeth where his two front ones should’ve been. They were at the park with Stiles’s dad, who’d been the one to take the picture of the two of them. His mom had always called him her little _squidge_.

It was Stiles’s favourite picture because it helped remind him that there had been a time where she was alive, not having to fight against her own body to keep breathing. That’s how he wanted to remember her – smiling and laughing and ruffling his hair.

“I should’ve talked about her more. And not just when I was… drunk. Okay? I know that I should’ve talked about her with you, should’ve been there for you more – especially with the panic attacks. I’m sorry.” His dad held onto him tighter, almost squeezing all of Stiles’s breath out of him with the force of it. “I’m sorry.” His dad repeated, burying his face in his son’s shoulder.

“Dad, man, you don’t have to apologize. I get it. You did everything you could, I understand. I wasn’t the only one who lost her. And we made it through pretty well, right? I mean, we’re still standing here aren’t we?” Losing his mother had been one of the hardest things Stiles had ever been through, but his father had lost his wife. And then he got stuck with _Stiles_.

The hyper-active, sarcastic, danger-prone guy who ran with the wolves. If anything, Stiles should be the one apologizing.

“You know she would’ve been proud of you, right?” His dad pulled away, wiping at his eyes and nose. “And I’m proud of you too.” His father rested a hand on his shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. “If you’re not ready for this, Melissa and I will hold off.”

Stiles frowned. “What? No! No way. You two are getting married if I have to carry you over my shoulder and recite your vows myself.” Stiles stated, and smiled. His father smiled back at him.

“That’s okay son, I think I can handle my own vows. How about you just focus on being my Best Man, okay?” His dad asked, like he still wasn’t sure if Stiles would want to be in the wedding at all. Stiles clapped his father on the back.

“It’d be an honour.” And it really would be. Now that he and his father had gotten through the dreaded talk, shedding lots of manly tears and feelings and whatnot, Stiles was actually starting to feel a little better. They clinked their beers together in a wordless toast and Stiles took another swig of the amber liquid. “Sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have ran away like that.”

His dad shrugged. “It’s fine son, Melissa understood you needed some time. I’m glad we cleared the air though, gives us a bit of space to talk about something else.” Stiles made a mental note to talk to Melissa as soon as possible, and apologize to her as well.

Stiles’s brain stalled and backpedalled to register what his father just said. “Something… else?” He asked, already nervous. His dad wore an expression that was halfway amused and worried at the same time.

“Yeah, a little something that goes by the name Derek Hale, leaving my son looking like a cheap prostitute. Ring any bells?” His dad’s eyebrow was quirked, shooting accusatory glances at Stiles’s neck and chin. Stiles laughed nervously, absently running a hand over his skin, ending on the spot Derek had made in the elevator.

He cleared his throat. “I think it might be, like, a werewolf thing.” A really, _really hot_ werewolf thing that Stiles could definitely get used to, but he wasn’t about to tell his father that. Still, Stiles was blushing, trying to cover up the visible marks like if his dad couldn’t see them anymore he’d just forget about them. Which, yeah, obviously wasn’t going to work.

“Just be careful, okay? I’m not saying I don’t trust you and Derek to be… mature about a relationship, but I don’t need this turning into an episode of Jersey Shore, understand?” His dad asked and Stiles groaned.

“I can’t believe I ever let you watch that show.” He complained, shaking his head. “And anyways, it wouldn’t be anything like that. I mean, sure, we’d obviously bicker and argue all the time, but that’s how we show our affection to one another.” Basically that’s just how they flirted and Stiles was super okay with that.

His dad looked like he was going to argue but thought better of it. He sighed, putting his beer down on the table. “If he ever takes it too far or hurts you, you tell me and I’ll deal with it.” His dad said, seriously. Stiles put his beer down too.

“Dad, relax. He’s not gonna hurt me. But thank you for the support anyways.” He pulled out his phone, seeing Lydia had texted him twice. She was probably making sure he and Derek worked things out. “Is it cool if I spend the night at his place?” Not that he needed permission. Before he’d finally managed to pull himself away from Derek, Derek had told him that if Stiles needed it, Derek’s bed was open for the night, or well, any night.

Stiles had teased him about having a sleepover, braiding each other’s hair and talking about cute boys all night long; Derek merely looked unamused, insinuated that he wasn’t Scott so maybe Stiles should just stay home. Like Stiles was going to pass up an opportunity to spend the night with Derek.

His dad raised an eyebrow. “Weren’t you just at his place?”

“Yeah, for the pack meeting.” Stiles replied, ignoring the sly look his father was wearing.

“Right, right. The one you left for at around three, even though I have on good authority it started at five.” His dad nodded, smirking. Stiles started slinking away towards the stairs, more than ready to disappear in a puff of smoke rather than remain under his father’s scrutiny.

“I stopped for gas,” Stiles lied, and his father knew he was lying, and Stiles knew that his father knew it. He couldn’t take it back though.

“Interesting. Didn’t realize getting gas could take two hours.” His dad continued and shrugged. “Though I’m sure if it was possible, my boy would figure out how to do it.” And Stiles was pretty sure he should’ve been offended by that but he decided to take it as a compliment.

“Yeah well, I _am_ pretty resourceful.” Stiles replied and set his drink down on the decorative table near the foot of the stairs, usually meant for picture frames and flowers. “Since you didn’t say no I’m going to assume that was your way of saying yes!” Stiles’s voice practically singsong. He threw himself up the stairs before his father could protest.

He grabbed his backpack, first emptying it of its contents before repacking it with what he would need for the night. Fresh boxers, pajama pants (which were actually just really comfortable sweatpants), one of his graphic tees as substitute for an actual pajama top, jeans and one of his plaid long sleeves to wear tomorrow, and lastly he packed the bestiary and the notebook in case he’d have time to make some progress in translating it.

Before exiting his room he paused, looking over at his bedside table where he kept his condoms and lube. He bit nervously at his lip, fighting to determine whether or not he’d need them, just in case. It wasn’t like he was any kind of saint - he’d been de-virginized (is that even a word?) in his senior year of high school, and he had a bit of experience under his belt now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had his fair share of sex even when he wasn’t exactly in a relationship with whoever it was, and whatever Derek and him had going… seemed sort of like a relationship. Or, at the very least, the start of one.

So sex wasn’t completely off the table, which meant there was always a possibility that they could totally have sexy times _on_ the table. Or up against a wall. On the couch. The bed. All of the above, really, any flat surface would do.

He was just opening the drawer to retrieve the stuff when he heard a knock on his bedroom door and nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around, slamming the drawer shut and almost knocking everything that had been on top, off of it.

“Hey dad!” Stiles greeted his father, still fumbling with trying to steady the end table behind him before it fell over too. His dad looked like he wanted to comment on how completely obvious and suspicious his son was, but decided he was way too old for this shit.

“Son. Just wanted to let you know that when you get back tomorrow Melissa and I will probably be out, so you’ll be on your own for dinner. Scott and Allison will still be at Chris’s house.” His father paused, looking a little undecided. “If you do end up having Derek over… just… text me. I don’t want to walk in on anything.” Stiles began to cry internally.

“Oh my god, dad, there wouldn’t be anything to walk in on.” Stiles groaned. If they were going to do anything, they were definitely doing it at Derek’s apartment, where there weren’t any disruptions or chances that someone might walk in on them and their sexy times.

His father nodded, looking a little awkward. “Okay, I’m just saying.” He nodded again, pulling out of the doorway with a quick, “Alright, I’ll see you later.”

Stiles shoved the condoms and lube into his bag, zipping it up completely so that the contents would remain contained. He pulled out his phone and dialed Derek’s number. It rang through a couple times before Derek picked up. “Stiles? Is everything okay?”

Stiles smiled. “Yeah, yeah everything’s good. I still want to take you up on your offer though, if that’s okay?”

“Obviously. I’ll see you soon. Have you eaten yet?” Derek asked, and there was a shifting on the other end of the phone that sounded like he was standing up from his bed.

“No, when I got home my dad gave me a beer, but that’s all I’ve had really.” Stiles answered, slinging his bag over his shoulder in preparation for his departure. There was a silence on the other end of the line; Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek had hung up or…? “Derek?”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes to pick you up.” Stiles paused halfway down the stairs.

“What?” He could be out the door and at Derek’s place in less than ten minutes if he drove himself.

“Just be ready, okay? And promise me you won’t get behind the wheel.” Derek’s voice sounded borderline urgent. Finally Stiles clued in to why Derek was acting so strange about him driving.

“Seriously dude? It was _one_ beer. I didn’t even drink half of it.” It was still sitting on the table, probably a little too warm now. Derek grunted on the other end of the phone.

“Stiles I’ve seen you drink, you don’t exactly have the greatest resilience to alcohol.” Stiles winced at the memory of a couple years ago on Stiles’s birthday where Derek walked in on him and Lydia plastered, giggling and hiccupping, singing along to old Backstreet Boys songs. Stiles vaguely remembered that night, was only reminded by Lydia that as soon as Derek had walked through the doorway Stiles had jumped to his feet and yelled something about Derek being like, ten out of ten, _totally would fuck_ , or something like that.

Yeah, maybe not one of Stiles’s best moments ever, but hey, at least he was an honest drunk, not that drunk people could be anything but. “Okay, that’s true, but honestly Derek, it’s beer. And I didn’t even drink the whole thing. I am feeling no numbness or inebriation at all.” Stiles knew what his limitations were, but apparently Derek wasn’t hearing it.

“Good for you. I’m already in the Camaro. I’ll be there soon.” And then Derek hung up before Stiles could protest any more. Stiles wouldn’t ever admit it, but Derek’s over-protectiveness was both adorable and sexy, and completely unfair. Derek wasn’t allowed to know that though, because he’d take it as permission to sling Stiles over his shoulder and drag him away any time there was a hint of danger, and that would’ve just been annoying.

He tossed his bag down on the couch and plunked down next to it, switching on the television to waste time until Derek got there. Stiles’s dad walked out of the kitchen, carrying a plate with a tall, multi-layered sandwich, packed with all sorts of delicious things that made Stiles’s mouth water. He sniffed at the air, almost able to smell the sweetness of whatever meats his father had packed into it.

“That might be the most delicious looking sandwich I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” Stiles’s stomach growled, agreeing with that statement wholeheartedly. His father made a happy grunting noise as he took his first bite, the insides of the sandwich looking precariously close to spilling out and making a mess of his father’s plate.

Stiles licked his lips and his father caught the action. “Would you like a bite, son?” He asked, an eyebrow quirked. Stiles smiled, accepting the sandwich and taking as big a bite out of it as he could.

Around the mouthful of food he managed a garbled, “Thanks dad.” The sandwich was even more delicious than it had looked, and as soon as Stiles swallowed his mouth mourned the loss of the lingering taste.

The sandwich was sex, basically, and Stiles was in sore need of more.

“Shouldn’t you be on your way to Derek’s?” His dad asked, after trying to resist Stiles’s puppy dog eyes for another bite. _Trying_ , being the keyword. Inevitably he sighed and handed the sandwich over once more. Stiles took a smaller bite this time before handing it back.

“He’s on his way here to pick me up.” Stiles answered, licking his fingers where a small amount of mustard had dripped. His dad frowned. Stiles paused mid-lick. “What?”

“What’s wrong with your jeep?” He asked, shifting in his seat and taking a bite of his sandwich. Stiles shrugged.

“Nothin’.” Stiles answered plainly, like it wasn’t a big deal. Because it really wasn’t. But his father was still giving him that strange look. “What?” Stiles asked, a little louder than he’d intended.

His dad shrugged, mirroring his son’s actions. “I don’t see why he has to drive all the way over here just to drive you back to his place.” There was a slight pause. “You better not be taking advantage of Derek, son.” And there was totally a threat in there somewhere.

Stiles just about choked on his own saliva. “ _Dad_! Oh my god, _no_. Do you seriously think I’m that kind of a guy?” His dad didn’t say anything to answer, just kept staring at Stiles with this skeptical expression. “Okay. He’s the one who insisted on driving me because I drank a bit of beer.” Stiles tried. His dad’s eyebrow rose impressively higher.

“So you listen to him now?” The sheriff asked, and Stiles didn’t really know what to say to that. “I remember a time when you two couldn’t even stand to be in each other’s presence. You’ve told me on countless occasions that you hate him.”

Stiles groaned, exasperated. “Sexual tension dad. The answer to just about every ounce of hate in this world.” Which, okay, not strictly true considering Stiles’s hatred of Peter had nothing to do with any sort of tension beyond that which lead to murder and dancing on graves.

His dad nodded though, and Stiles hoped that would be the end to this awkward conversation. Unfortunately his father wasn’t finished inflicting uncomfortable pain on his son. “Is he using sex to control you?”

Stiles face palmed. “Oh. My. _God_. _No_.” Stiles forced out the words and grabbed a hold of his bag’s straps, slinging it over one shoulder as he stood. He glanced over at his father to see him smirking, quite proud of himself. “I’m going to wait for him on the porch. Good night, dad.”

“Good night son. And tell Derek I appreciate that he’s looking out for you.” The sheriff was still grinning when Stiles shut the front door behind him, with maybe a little more force than had been necessary. He sank down on the porch steps, setting the bag beside him before burying his face in his hands.

The air around him steadily began to grow colder with each minute that ticked by. It was already almost completely dark outside, the winter season stealing what short time the sun had in the sky. There was a thin layer of snow on the ground left over from last night’s short flurry. Mostly it was just ice, but it was still pretty to look at.

Derek’s Camaro was heard before it was seen; its purring engine slicing through the almost frozen winter air. He pulled into the driveway just as Stiles was grabbing his bag and making his way down the steps.

It was all going fairly well until Stiles’s foot slipped on some ice and he just about face planted onto the hard stone surface of the driveway. Before he could collide with the ground there were hands already wrapping around his arms and pulling him back upright.

“My hero.” Stiles fake swooned, pulling an amused half-smile from Derek as he helped Stiles regain his balance.

“One beer and you can’t even walk in a straight line. You’re trouble Stiles Stilinski.” Derek smirked, and the two of them stood there for a moment; Derek’s hands still firmly grasping Stiles’s arms. It should’ve been awkward. The silence alone was enough to make anyone cringe, but somehow it just… worked. Maybe that was because they were so used to each other’s presence by now that it didn’t matter. But maybe it was because the silence wasn’t empty in the way that most silences were. It was full of unspoken words and promises, enough that awkwardness had no room to fit.

Stiles cleared his throat. “So, my dad thinks you’re my bitch.” Derek’s eyebrows did a little dance before settling on being unimpressed.

“Does he? Maybe the sheriff and I need to have a little chat.” Derek let go of Stiles’s arms and took a step around him towards the house. Stiles quickly grabbed at Derek’s shoulders, redirecting him back towards the Camaro.

“Don’t worry I set him straight. Now he thinks you’re using sex as a ploy to get me to do whatever you want, so.” Stiles said as nonchalantly as he could, even shrugging a little. Derek came to a complete stand still, and no amount of pushing would get him to take another step towards the car.

“Excuse me?” He asked, his voice low and in that commanding tone he usually only reserved to use in dire situations. It was kind of hot. Kind of really, _really_ hot. Stiles chuckled but abruptly stopped when suddenly Derek was crowding his space, their noses almost touching. “Is that all it would take to get you to listen to me?”

Stiles gulped, regaining some of his composure. “I’m not _that_ easy. Gotta at least buy me dinner first.” Derek pressed his body lightly against Stiles’s. Derek’s hands hovered over Stiles’s shoulders, sliding down along his arms and slipping under to rest on his hips. He lifted his own hips slightly, just enough that their crotches were lined up. Stiles’s jeans didn’t exactly allow much in the way of creating any friction, but his erection was pressed hard up against the material, straining for any kind of grind it could get.

Derek chuckled, pulling away and heading over to the driver’s side of the car. “No, I’d say you’re pretty easy.” Stiles stood there for a moment with his mouth hanging half open, watching Derek walk away.

“But… I… What?” He asked, the blood not entirely circulating in his upstairs brain.

Derek smirked. “Get in the car Stiles.” And Stiles got in the car without another word.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

They spent the entire night curled up on Derek’s couch, flipping through various channels and movies until they came across something they both wanted to watch. They ordered in, calling the nearest Chinese restaurant; and since Derek couldn’t decide between the egg rolls or the deep fried wontons – and of course they were going to order the Ling Mung Gai (lemon chicken) because Derek hadn’t tried it (really Derek? Lemon chicken-… lemon _anything_ is the best thing there is, there’s nothing anyone can say that’ll convince Stiles otherwise), they basically ordered fifty percent of the entire menu, which meant they’d have enough food to feed not only themselves, but also a small pack of wolves.

Which seemed reasonable.

When there was a knock on the apartment's front door, Stiles sprang to his feet, grabbing his wallet from off of the side table and sneaking towards the door, hoping Derek wouldn’t notice. Which was completely useless because Derek was instantly at Stiles’s side, grabbing his hand which held the wallet and slipping it out from Stiles’s grasp. He quickly replaced it with his own cash, before Stiles had even realized what was going on.

“No, no, no! If anything we’re going halfsies!” Stiles argued, and Derek just gave him this, _oh really_ , look that made Stiles huff out in irritation. “Equality Derek! I am asserting my human rights here!” He tried to force the money back into Derek’s hand but he dodged it easily.

“First of all, I’m a wolf, Stiles, and I’m ignoring your rights in favour of practicing my own.” Derek paused, knowing Stiles would want to object.

“Since when is there such a thing as _werewolf rights_?” Stiles asked and slammed his mouth shut. Derek looked entirely too amused. “Wow. I can’t believe I just said that.” Derek crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “I meant, like, you’re human too. You’re just part wolf. Which means you and I are equal, under human’s rights laws.” Stiles stopped, noticing the way Derek’s smirk deepened. “You know, there _is_ a way you can just shut me up and I don’t have to keep rambling on like this-,” Derek leaned over, giving Stiles’s lips a delicate kiss.

There was another knock on the door and Derek pulled away, herding Stiles towards the door. Stiles thought about making one last attempt at trying to retrieve his wallet back from Derek but decided it was futile. He answered the door, grabbing the delivered Chinese food and handing it to Derek before exchanging money with the small brunette delivery girl.

She grinned at him, batting her eyelashes, probably just trying to score herself a nice tip. “Home for the holidays?” She asked, and Stiles’s head tilted in confusion. He eyed the girl a little more closely and realized he’d gone to Beacon Hills with her.

“Oh! Hey Rebecca! Yeah, got here a few days ago actually. How’ve you been?” He asked and leaned against the doorframe. She smiled, obviously pleased that he was carrying on the conversation.

“I’m alright. Kinda bummed I have to work on Christmas Day but someone’s gotta pay the bills right?” She was leaning towards Stiles a bit, which Stiles wouldn’t have noticed except suddenly she snapped back and the smile faded from her lips.

Stiles frowned and looked over his shoulder to see what she was grimacing at. Derek was standing there, his arms crossed tightly over his chest and his glare fixed on her. He looked back over at Rebecca to see that she’d taken another step away from Stiles. “Is everything okay?” Stiles asked, still not entirely sure what was going on.

“Y-yeah… Yeah, sorry. I just… Have to go.” She stammered in the beginning but seemed to gain a little more composure near the end of her speech. Her eyes hardened as she tore them away from Derek. “It was nice seeing you.” She smiled and winked at him before turning on her heel and walking away, her head held high.

Stiles closed the door slowly. When he turned back to Derek, Derek simply smiled and slid his arms around Stiles’s waist, pulling him close to peck little kisses down Stiles’s neck. “What the hell was that all about? Is Rebecca like, a werewolf, or something?” Stiles asked and Derek made a questioning humming sound, his face still basically plastered to Stiles’s neck. “Why were you looking at her like you wanted to kill her?” Stiles tried but Derek took a deep breath and then turned away. He grabbed Stiles’s hand and tugged him along into the kitchen where he’d set everything up in a buffet style.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” and then, without skipping a beat, “The rice looks really good, want some?” He held up the small container of fried rice, which had an assortment of veggies and chicken mixed in to it. Stiles eyed it with vague suspicion, knowing that Derek was using the offering as a ploy to try and avoid answering his question.

“Yes. But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook yet.” He grabbed the rice and scooped an acceptable amount onto his plate. He dug into each take-out container, making sure his plate was completely crowded with food. Derek finished filling up his own and retreated to the living room without another word. Stiles sighed, following after him shortly.

When he entered the living room Derek was already set up with the coffee table pushed up closer to the couch. Stiles took his seat next to him, setting his plate down and leaning over it as he ate. There was some Finnish Christmas movie playing on the television. Half of it was in Finnish, while the other half of it was in English, and the subtitles that were appearing at the bottom of the screen sometimes didn’t translate correctly.

Honestly, it didn’t matter what language it was in, it was confusing as hell and Stiles was too busy thinking about stuff to really pay attention to the man-eating depiction of the Santa Clause character butchering people on the screen.

He was biting his lip – he had long since finished licking his plate clean – when Derek reached over and placed his hand on Stiles’s knee, which had unknowingly been bouncing up and down, shaking the rest of the couch. “What’s bothering you?” Derek asked, his eyebrows turning down in confusion.

Stiles shrugged. “Have you talked to Peter yet?” Derek’s hand tightened on Stiles’s leg. Stiles scoffed at the guilty look in Derek’s eyes. “But you _are_ going to, right?” Derek released Stiles’s knee and instead draped his arm across the back of the couch.

“I said I would, so I will. Just… not tonight, okay? I’ve had enough of Peter for one day.” He replied quietly, looking down at his feet.

Stiles felt a little guilty, having not realized how stressed Derek was about this whole thing. His shoulders were slumped forward, almost defeated. He hadn’t really thought about how Derek might feel about leaving his own pack for an entire week – possibly for longer. He should’ve known.

He shuffled closer, nuzzling under Derek’s arm and nudging softly until he got the hint and let his arm fall around Stiles’s shoulders, eliminating the space between them entirely. Stiles leaned over, resting his head into the crook of Derek’s neck.

Derek’s lips rested on the top of Stiles’s head for a long while. They snuggled on the couch for the rest of the night, exchanging few words about how terrible the movie had been (though Stiles did give it props for twisting the generally good, wholesome character of Santa and making him into a horror). After the movie was over it was back to lounging comfortably and idly discussing the pack.

Stiles shifted until he was able to look up at Derek, his nose every so often nudging at Derek’s chin. “Were you there when Jackson proposed?” Derek asked and Stiles let out a hard laugh.

“Yeah, right. Like he’d ever want me anywhere near his proposal to Lydia.” Stiles grinned as Derek nodded.

“I guess. So she called you and told you?” He asked, seeming out-of-character with the level of interest he had on the subject.

“Yeah. Although, she sort of told me a few days before it even happened so,” Stiles shrugged and rested his head back down on Derek’s chest. It was really comfortable there. Stiles could die happily, resting his head on Derek’s anything, really.

Derek tilted his head. “She knew?”

Stiles chuckled. “You’re surprised by that? Lydia knows shit’s going down like, _way_ before it even happens. She has an uncanny ability when it comes to figuring stuff out. Sort of like how I am exceptionally good at discerning who and who isn’t evil. That’s why she and I get along so well, us tragically beautiful, intelligent people have to stick together to fend off all the stupid the rest of the world has to offer.”

Derek made a grunting sound that neither approved of nor disputed that fact. “You two are really close now.” Derek said, though Stiles was pretty sure there was a question in there somewhere. He looked up again to see a hint of hesitance in Derek’s withdrawn gaze.

“Yeah, she and I spend a lot of time together. Jackson’s there too, but he’s involved with a lot of business building stuff, like networking and going to these social things to build up his future clientele or whatever.” Stiles yawned, peering at his watch. It wasn’t too late, nearly ten o’clock, but he was already starting to feel tired.

Derek yawned almost immediately after him. “Here, I’ll clean up the dishes. Do you want to head to bed?” Stiles sat up straight, allowing Derek to free his arm and stand, collecting the plates and forks on his way up.

“Sure, yeah. Sorry. With school it’s sort of like, catch some z’s when you can, because you spend most of the time studying through the night. I’m still trying to adjust to having more than six hours of sleep every night.” Stiles stood too, trying to lend a hand with the dishes but Derek swatted him away.

“I’ll join you when I’m done, okay?” Derek asked but didn’t wait for a reply as he left the room. Stiles stretched out and then reached down to grab the television converter from the table. He switched it off and then headed into Derek’s bedroom.

He retrieved his phone from his bag, seeing that there were several messages waiting for him, a few from Lydia, one from Scott and another from Allison, one from Isaac, and then the last from Erica. He sighed, because of course they couldn’t just let him have one night to himself.

**_Lydia:_ **

**_Did you and Derek make up?_ **

**_Lydia:_ **

**Stiles you better answer me in the next five seconds or I’m telling Erica about last month’s peanut butter incident. And you and I both know she’ll tell everyone else.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Fine. Don’t answer me. But you’re meeting me for coffee in the morning, nine o’clock sharp. The Starbucks by the highschool. If you don’t show up I’m kicking you out of my wedding party.**

Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck. Nine o’clock wasn’t too early, so there wasn’t any real reason why he wouldn’t be able to make it. He sighed, sending her a quick text back that he’d meet her there. Next he opened the message from Scott.

**_Scott:_ **

**Yo bro! Looks like it’ll be official soon! We’re gonna be step brothers!!**

Stiles decided a quick smiley emoticon and a, ‘ _Dude, I know!_ ’ was a good enough reply to that for the moment.

**_Allison:_ **

**Hey Stiles, things seemed pretty heated earlier, are you okay? If there’s anything I can do just let me know!**

Evil Lydia and her evil ability to get anyone to do her bidding.

**_Stiles:_ **

**Hey Allison, it’s all good, no worries. Thanks for checking in though.**

Ugh. Still two more messages to go.

**_Isaac:_ **

**Hey buddy, how you feeling? Sorry I didn’t stick around earlier, I heard you dad and Melissa talking downstairs and figured they’d want to talk to you alone. How’d it go?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**You heard and didn’t give me a heads up? It was fine I guess. Talk more later. Super tired.**

He clicked open the final message with a relieved sigh.

**_Erica:  
_ **

**Did you two work your shit out yet?**

**_Stiles:_ **

**Nope. His head exploded and I burst into flames.**

He slipped his phone back into his bag but it was alerting him to a new message before he could even stand. It was from Erica.

**_Erica:_ **

**What kind of sex are you guys having? Because it sounds like fun.**

Stiles groaned, not even validating that with a response. He threw his phone into his bag with a little more force than necessary.

He slipped into his sweat pants and proceeded to have a very heated inner battle about whether or not he should wear the shirt too, which eventually he just tossed back into his bag and hopped into the bed, sliding under the soft, cool covers.

He squirmed until he was comfortable and the pillow underneath his head was acceptably fluffy. The covers grew warmer around him, and with every passing second he could feel his eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

By the time Derek snuck into the room Stiles was barely coherent. There was a slight kiss pressed to his forehead, and then the bed was dipping as Derek crawled in beside him. An arm wrapped around his waist, pulling his hips until his entire back was comfortably pressed up against Derek’s front.

Stiles’s last, fleeting thought was that he could totally get used to falling asleep this way every single night for the rest of his life.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

When Stiles blinked himself awake he found the lower half of his body constricted by a tangle of legs, and an arm still draped tightly over his stomach. He smiled, breathing in deeply and stretching out his limbs as much as he could without shifting so much that he’d wake Derek up.

A quick glance at his watch told him he had an hour before he’d have to leave and make his way to meet Lydia. He slipped as soundlessly as he could out of bed, doing his best not to disturb Derek. To his surprise he actually managed to get out of the bed without falling face first out of it, or tangling his legs even further in the sheets.

It was a post-Christmas miracle.

He tiptoed out of the room and through the apartment to the kitchen, still remaining as quiet as possible as he opened the fridge and scoured through its contents. There were still containers left of the Chinese they had last night, but obviously they couldn’t have that for breakfast. Stiles pulled out the carton of eggs, freed the bacon from the very back of the fridge, and then grabbed the loaf of bread from the counter.

Stiles wasn’t really a five star chef or anything close to that, but he’d been on his own now for long enough that he knew how to throw a decent sandwich together. When Derek woke up he’d have everything nice and cooked and ready to be devoured, and they’d sit together for a while before Stiles had to leave.

Stiles could kiss Derek awake, and then later kiss the taste of bacon off his lips. He’d see Derek wiping the sleepiness out of his eyes, and maybe even catch a glimpse of Derek’s bare skin as he stretched his arms high above his head, like he usually did in the morning. Derek would probably sit down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen, still groggy and mumbling his good mornings as Stiles set breakfast down in front of him.

Because Derek was like a puppy in the morning; totally opposite of how Stiles mostly was when he awoke irritable and cranky. Stiles was glad that he knew that much about Derek, after years of being in the same pack, sleeping in various places with all of them gathered together.

He finished putting the sandwiches together – eggs, bacon, cheese, tomato, and just a sprinkle of salt and pepper – and quietly returned to Derek’s bedroom. Derek had rolled over into the space where Stiles had slept, his face plastered to the pillow. Stiles smirked, shaking his head at how absolutely adorable it was.

He crossed the room and climbed into the bed, crawling over until he could lean down and pepper a few kisses to the back of Derek’s exposed neck. “Derek?” Stiles called out gently, kissing again. Derek let out a soft breath. “Derek, dude, you gotta get up.” Stiles rested his hand on Derek’s hip, nudging gently. Derek rolled his head, his body following lazily after it so he was lying on his back now.

“W’time’s it?” Derek slurred out, one hand scrubbing at his chin scruff. Stiles leaned over, kissing at the corner of Derek’s lips.

“Almost eight twenty.” Stiles answered. Derek cranked an eye open and stared up at Stiles.

“In the morning?” He asked, his voice a little tight.

Stiles chuckled. “Yes, in the morning. I have to get going soon, so I made us breakfast. Wanna eat it here? Or in the kitchen?” He asked, and grabbed Derek’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together and tugging a bit, trying to motivate Derek to wake up.

Derek was silent for a moment, probably still half asleep. “Uhh, kitchen? Yeah. There.” Derek answered, but he closed his eyes and didn’t move. Stiles waited an entire ten seconds before tugging at Derek’s hand again.

“Well if you want to have it in the kitchen you have to get up.” Stiles said, and it felt like he was explaining something to a five year old child. Derek muttered something, and then sighed, and then managed to crack both eyes open.

“Where d’you have t’go?” Derek asked, sitting up slowly. Stiles tried to release his hand but Derek held on tighter, using it to pull Stiles in for a morning hug, which, yeah, Stiles could totally do.

“Lydia wants to get together, I figure I either go or she kills me in my sleep tonight.” Stiles answered and Derek finally pulled out of the hug and stood. Stiles scrambled to his feet too, and he led Derek through the apartment, still holding his hand while Derek’s other free hand wiped sleepies out of his eyes.

Stiles smiled. Derek fell into the chair, as Stiles predicted, and he mumbled out his thanks when Stiles placed his plate in front of him. “Erica wanted to hang out too, I told her I was busy. I doubt she listened though. She told me she’d be here by around nine.” Derek said, and hummed when he bit into the sandwich. “This is delicious.” Derek said around his mouthful of food.

“Thanks. I’m becoming pretty handy with a frying pan.” Stiles winked and there was a small smile on Derek’s lips in response. Stiles sat down in the only other chair at the table, pulling right into it and digging into his sandwich.

They ate in comfortable silence, and when they were done Derek and Stiles argued over who was doing the dishes. Derek settled it once and for all by saying that since Stiles had cooked it was only right that Derek clean up, and Stiles huffed out an exasperated breath but agreed. He went back to the bedroom to switch into his day clothing and packed his sweat pants into his bag.

When he re-emerged Derek was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Stiles set his bag down by the door, retrieving his own toothbrush, and joined Derek at the sink. They stood there, side by side, brushing and giving each other silly looks in the mirror. Derek spat and rinsed, and then instead of leaving Stiles to it, he wrapped his arms around Stiles’s waist from behind and started kissing at his neck.

Stiles had to pause brushing a few times, going completely still when small jolts sparked through his skin every time Derek’s teeth got involved. When his mouth felt acceptably minty he rinsed and turned to wrap his arms around Derek’s shoulders.

“I’ll text you?” Stiles asked, unsure if Derek had overdosed on Stiles yet, needed some time alone or something. But Derek grinned, resting his lips gingerly against Stiles, but not so completely that it was a kiss quite yet.

“Sounds good.” Derek said against Stiles’s lips. Stiles smiled too, kissing at Derek’s lips and sucking a little. “Or you could,” Derek was still talking, and _fuck_ that was hot, “stay here. With me.” And then he was kissing back, taking Stiles’s lower lip into his mouth and tugging at it with his teeth.

Stiles moaned lowly, his arms tightening around Derek, and Derek’s hands did the same. Stiles wanted to stay. He really, _really_ did. So did his very intrigued dick. But it would be cut off if he was even one minute late to meeting Lydia.

He pulled away, a little breathless. “I gotta go Der, she’ll strangle me with my own organs if I don’t show up on time.” Stiles tried to pull away but Derek apparently wasn’t done kissing yet. “I’m serious!” Stiles whined, sliding his hands across Derek’s shoulders and rested them firmly against Derek’s chest, giving a small push.

Derek pulled away, sighing. “Fine. I gotta take a shower anyways.” He said, his voice low. Stiles wasn’t sure if Derek was pissed or not, so before Derek could pull away he nudged Derek’s nose with his own.

“Hey,” he said, trying to reclaim Derek’s attention. “We’ll talk soon, okay?” Stiles tried to reassure Derek, but Derek barely even smiled. He let his hands drop away from Stiles and took a step back, breaking their contact entirely. He didn’t even look at Stiles.

“Alright.” Derek murmured and then turned. Stiles hovered there for only a moment, watching as Derek slipped his shirt off over his head, exposing his smooth, lean back; the triskele a bold, dark thing at the center of it. He wanted to reach out and trace it with his fingers; trace Derek’s entire _body_ , but he took a step back instead.

He left as soon as he saw Derek’s hands trailing down to undo his pants, because if he remained any longer it’d be too hard for him to peel himself away. In more ways than one.

He closed the front door behind him, and it automatically locked.  The whole drive to the coffee shop Stiles tried desperately hard not to think about Derek undressing, right in front of him, taking a shower, _naked_ , and how fucking hot shower sex would’ve been.

He got to the Starbucks with a few minutes to spare, but Lydia was already there in line, about to place her order. He walked over to her, still a little broody because he’d had to fend off a boner for the entire ride, and met her pleasantly devilish smile with a dark one of his own.

“You better have a _really_ good reason for dragging me out here Lydia.” Stiles growled. She didn’t say anything, just placed her order and waited for Stiles to place his. He got his regular – an iced caramel macchiato, because those things were actually the best thing ever – and followed her to a table in the corner. They sat there for five minutes before Stiles finally cracked. “Well?”

Lydia watched him, her eyes piercing through him like calculating daggers. “You didn’t answer me last night, why should I answer you now?” She asked, and Stiles didn’t have time for this shit.

“I was busy. I was still busy this morning, when you demanded I be here. So, either you tell me what’s up or I go back to being busy.” Stiles stated, biting his straw angrily. Lydia quirked an eyebrow.

“Firstly, you’re never too busy for me sweetheart. Secondly, you and Derek were being idiots yesterday and I want to know what happened after we all left.” She demanded and Stiles threw himself back in his chair, completely frustrated.

“That’s between Derek and I! It’s none of your business, and it’s none of Allison’s, and it’s none of Erica’s! Hell, even if Scott asked I wouldn’t tell him!” Stiles took a long sip from his drink, waiting for Lydia to say something. She didn’t though, just kept her stare trained on him. There was a dangerous gleam in her eye that Stiles had seen before. It wasn’t one of his favourite looks.

They sat there in silence for five minutes, and up until Lydia’s phone dinged and she checked a new message, she hadn’t spoken a single word. It was all beginning to set Stiles’s nerves on edge, like he was preparing himself for a punch that could come at any given moment.

She looked up from her phone, a tight smile on her lips. “I’m doing this for your own good.” She stated simply and stood, grabbing her purse from the table and just… walked away. Left Stiles sitting there alone without a clue as to what the fuck was even going on.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“So basically… you and Lydia cock blocked us… to make sure… that we weren’t cock blocking ourselves…?” Derek asked, fixing Erica with a _you-have-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me_ expression. Erica shrank in her seat a little, her hands tightening around the wheel.

“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” She asked sheepishly and Derek continued to glare at her. She looked over and shrugged. “Well you guys didn’t answer our texts! How were we supposed to know you were already moving on to make up sex?”

Derek tapped his fingers impatiently against the inside of the door. They were stuck at a red light, only a few blocks from where Lydia and Erica had decided to ‘set up’ a date between Derek and Stiles. Getting the details out of Erica had proven to be a little challenging, but by the time they were in her car headed to the coffee shop he’d managed to get her to come clean.

“We thought you two were being immature assholes, okay? You’re both stubborn! And _you_ … Don’t even get me started on you, Hale. You _know_ there’s something different about Stiles. You know what he is to you. You’ve probably known for years, and you haven’t done jack shit about it. So why would you now?” He shot her a sharp look, hoping that would silence her.

She opened her mouth to continue but instead remained aggressively silent, her hands tightening so harshly on the wheel he could hear it creaking under the pressure. “Just drop me off on the corner, I’ll walk the rest of the way.” He growled, hand already moving towards the door handle.

Erica pulled over, watching him climb out of her car and reaching for her cell phone. “I’m telling Lydia you’re on your way.” She said, without really questioning whether or not he’d still end up at the Starbucks.

Derek spared one thought on the debate before he turned and headed towards the shop. If anything this just meant he could spend a little more time with Stiles before he had to leave, and he was pretty okay with that.


	9. Chapter 9

“Derek?” Stiles had been on his way out of the coffee shop when he’d looked to the front doors and seen Derek walk through them. Derek’s expression was perturbed until his eyes rested on Stiles, and his sharp gaze softened. He walked over and kissed Stiles’s confused, half-parted lips.

Stiles hummed a low _mmm_ to show his approval and grabbed Derek’s hips, pulling him in closer to deepen the kiss. He could feel Derek’s lips slowly smiling against his own, and he decided there was no other place he’d rather be than there. When the kiss broke Derek let out an easy, “hey,” and gave Stiles one more soft peck.

“Hey?” Stiles replied, still unsure. Derek motioned towards the nearest table and they both took a seat across from each other. Stiles opened his mouth to ask but Derek was already beginning to answer.

“Since Lydia and Erica and the rest of them hadn’t heard anything from us last night they assumed we needed more time to work through things, so they set us up.” Derek’s voice was terse; obviously he was aggravated by their pack mates’ inability to keep their noses out of Derek’s personal and private business.

“Set us up… on… like… a date?” Stiles asked, thoroughly confused now, and a little perturbed. If Lydia hadn’t demanded he met her at the Starbucks, Derek would totally be underneath him right now, instead of across from him separated by a table. So, really, it was half Lydia’s fault and half the table’s fault.

Derek let out a slow breath and nodded. “Yeah. I know.” He leaned over the table, close enough that Stiles could practically see Derek’s pupils dilating, his eyes slowly shifting into something a little more dangerous and hungry. “We could always head back to my place you know.” And Derek’s voice was low and gravelly, sounding completely overwhelmed with the suggestion.

Stiles wanted to say yes; in fact, he just about blurted it out before he managed to reign himself back in a little. “As much as I want to – and trust me, _I do_ – I think I want to have coffee first.” He had to remind himself that rushing into things head first usually ended up miserably for them. Derek nodded, seeming to agree.

“Fair enough.” He stood, peering over his shoulder at the lineup. “I’ll be right back,” Stiles wasn’t ashamed to admit that as Derek walked away, he totally checked out his ass.

As Derek made his way through the line Stiles pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Lydia.

**_Stiles:_ **

**You’re lucky I love you.**

He was still a little irked by her needing to meddle in literally anything she could get her hands on, but he knew it came from a good place. As much as she denied it, and she definitely _did_ deny it, she actually had a heart. A mushy, gooey heart full of good intention and kindness.

Unless she didn’t like you. Then she was a stone-cold bitch. Which Stiles totally respected.

“Stiles?” Stiles heard a familiar voice and looked up from his phone to see Rebecca standing there with a kind smile on her lips. “Fancy meeting you here!” Stiles’s brow pulled down in confusion – he still didn’t understand why she behaved so warmly towards him – but he smiled anyways.

“Hey Rebecca, how’s it going?” He chanced a look over in Derek’s direction to see that he was staring at Stiles, his eyes hard and his frown deep. Stiles looked back at Rebecca, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Did they have history? Was she dangerous?

“I’m great! I don’t have to work today, which is nice. I get to spend time with my family and come to Starbucks and drink my fill in coffee.” She smiled broadly at him, her teeth wide and so white they momentarily blinded him. “So, how was your Christmas? Santa bring you anything special?”

Stiles chuckled; he always liked it when people asked him that, like Santa was still real and Stiles was still a kid, living in a world where anything was possible. And, well, now here he was, running with a pack of werewolves.

“Yeah, yeah. He did. I got some lovely socks and cotton underwear. Every college boy’s dream.” And he wasn’t being sarcastic. The prospect of new socks and underwear were actually a godsend. When you got older, socks seemed to disappear a lot more often. Whereas, when he was a kid, getting socks for Christmas almost amounted to getting coal in your stocking.

She giggled, nodding enthusiastically. “Ah yes, one can never have too many socks or underwear. Honestly I think I’d prefer that to what my friends got me this year.” She paused, waiting expectantly for him to inquire as to what exactly her friends had gotten her, if not socks and underwear. Because the whole world _needed_ to know apparently.

“What’d they get you?” He asked finally, too uncomfortable with the dragging silence to let it go on any longer. She smiled and blushed, looking down at her hands which were resting in front of her on the table.

“Oh, I really shouldn’t say.” She said, acting coy. Stiles smiled politely.

“Aww, come on. I’m sure it isn’t that bad.” He tried. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, leaning over the table.

“They bought me lingerie.” She whispered and giggled, and Stiles chuckled.

“That was… nice of them?” He said, though unsure. She shrugged, looking up at the ceiling innocently.

“It was a gag gift. Last year I bought Cece glow in the dark condoms, and I got Victoria a dildo. So I guess we’re all even now.” She smiled, and Stiles wasn’t really sure how appropriate this was, or why he’d needed to know any of that. “At least they’ll be able to use theirs though. I don’t even have anyone to wear my present for.” She bit her lower lip, peering at Stiles in a way that made his throat dry.

“Uhh.” He paused, letting his brain process the tone of her voice and gaze. He thought about their previous interactions and realized something. Rebecca was into him. Like, _into_ him into him. “Maybe you could donate it to the Salvation Army then.” He tried, and she smiled at him.

“I guess. But it’d be a shame. The pieces are really nice. The top’s red with black lacing, and the bottoms clip into the corset.” She paused, tilting her head at him. “You know, I leave in the morning to go back to my dorm. Maybe you could keep me company on my last night here?” She asked, and Stiles looked over at Derek to see that he was waiting for his drink, his back turned towards them.

He looked back over at Rebecca. “I’m actually sorta already spoken for. Sorry Bec.” He replied, hoping it wouldn’t make things too awkward, or that he didn’t hurt her feelings.

“Who? _Derek Hale_?” She asked, glaring at the back of Derek’s head. “He’s a freak, Stiles. I don’t care if he’s hot, or that he’s got money. You deserve someone better than him.” She finished, pursing her lips. She reached over, placing her hand over top of Stiles’s.

Stiles almost cringed. He pulled away from her and reached up, somewhat subtly pulling his hood away from his neck to reveal the still sore marks. Her eyes trailed down towards the very visible markings, and her nose crinkled. “You don’t know the first thing about him, or me. You’re not my friend, and after you get up and leave this table, preferably this store in general, you and I will not speak to each other again.”

She rolled her eyes, not even saying goodbye as she walked out the door, hips swaying a substantially increased amount than before. It was quite comical, really.

When Derek rejoined Stiles, he had a smug smirk on his face. “You dealt with that nicely.” He sat down, taking a sip of his steaming hot drink. Stiles shrugged.

“She was being a bitch.” He paused, leaning forward. “Besides, no one talks shit about my Alpha.” He winked and Derek smiled broadly, looking a little younger than he actually was for a moment. The smile faded though, replaced by a furrowed brow and distant gaze. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s right, you know. You deserve someone better than me.” Derek’s voice was quiet and he was staring down at his cup, avoiding Stiles’s eyes. Stiles scoffed, shaking his head.

“You’re ridiculous.” He said and Derek looked up at him. “First of all, this self-loathing shit needs to stop. You’re amazing Derek, and the pack loves you. We trust you with our lives.” Stiles paused, taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what he was about to say next. “Secondly, I don’t care about what anyone else thinks. They don’t know you. They don’t know _us_. They couldn’t even begin to understand the amount of shit we’ve been through together.”

Derek’s jaw tensed. “I put you in danger, Stiles. If we… If we’re together, you’ll never be safe.”

Stiles shook his head, biting on his lower lip in agitation. “No, you don’t get it Derek. There’s no safer place in the world than right by your side. I’m a danger magnet, and you’re my werewolf. You’re my best friend, and I trust you, and I… I _love_ you. I love you! Even when you’re being all broody and frowny. _Especially_ then, actually.”

Derek allowed himself a small smile. “Good to know.” He chuckled, looking over at Stiles with an openness he’d only seen few times before. “I love you too. You know that, right? I know I’m not great with words… but I do love you. I’d do anything to keep you safe.”

Stiles reached over, grabbing Derek’s slightly trembling hand in his own. “I know.” He said, and they shared a look that was just for them, reserved just for their memories. “So I guess this means I get to call you my boyfriend now.” Stiles smiled, and it was a silly smile but he couldn’t help it. The idea of Derek being his _boyfriend_ made his stomach flutter in the best of ways.

Derek smiled too, giving Stiles’s hand a tight squeeze. “Before we decide anything… we have to talk about one more thing.” He looked down at their hands, and then closed his eyes, breathing out slowly. “I know we’ve talked a little about… mates. Scott and Allison, Jackson and Lydia, Boyd and Erica… they’re all mated to each other.”

Stiles laughed. “Yeah Derek, I know they do the do together.” Derek laughed too, but it sounded a little breathless.

“Yes, they do. But being mated to a werewolf is… a lot more permanent. And a lot more profound. If we… if we do this…” Derek trailed off, scrubbing his hand against his cheek. “We’ll be bonded in an irreversible way.”

Stiles tilted his head, curious. “Irreversible? Can't you mate with anyone?”

Derek shook his head. “Yeah, once we bond there’s no taking it back. Things will change. Feelings will… _intensify_. And no, you can only be bonded once. And it can’t be with just anyone. It has to be your _mate_. Someone who fits you in every single way. Someone who makes you feel like... well, like home.” Derek explained.

Stiles oddly understood. “So, you think you and I are mates?” Derek hesitated a moment, which cast a bit of doubt.

“Yeah. I think we are.” He paused, looking away from Stiles again.

Suddenly Stiles realized something. “How long have you _known_?” He asked, sitting up in his chair. If Derek had known about this for a while, and he hadn’t said anything… well Stiles wouldn’t be impressed. Derek could have saved the both of them years of heart ache.

Derek sighed. “Ever since I saw you, basically. Even before that, really. That night I could smell you in the forest. That’s how I found Scott’s inhaler. I wasn’t looking for it. I was looking for you. And then I _found_ you and you were this sarcastic, snarky _kid_ , and you were in love with someone else. And you… you were _afraid_ of me Stiles.” Derek looked so vulnerable in that moment, like he was admitting to himself that he was a monster.

Stiles stood from his seat, rounding the table and grabbing Derek by the collar of his shirt. He leaned down and delivered a crushing kiss to Derek’s lips, one that had his own lips trembling and tingling. He broke away and growled, “You’re an idiot.” And he grabbed Derek’s hand and led him out of the coffee shop towards his jeep .

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

Derek knew he was an idiot. He was well aware of that fact.

But he’d had his reasons for not telling Stiles about the strong possibility they were mates. In the beginning he couldn’t, because they didn’t trust each other and everything was just too fresh… Kate, Derek’s family dying, the Alphas… It never felt like the right time.

And even when things started to settle down, and the pack had started to get healthier and things were just generally all-around better, Derek was afraid that if he said anything he’d lose Stiles. Stiles was going off to college, and he would be on his own for the first time in his life. He’d have a chance to grow into himself, figure out the sort of person he was beyond killing werewolves and witches, and Darachs and all the other assorted supernatural beings they’d taken on.

Derek couldn’t get in the way of that. Of Stiles finding his happiness. So he forced it all away and did his best to forget about it, resigned to the belief that maybe they weren't really meant to be together.

“Except you’re an even bigger idiot now, because you’re a _really big part of my happiness_.” Stiles said, after Derek had told him all of this. They were lying down on Derek’s couch; Stiles resting in between Derek legs with his head on Derek’s chest. Apparently Derek had, “built-in pec pillows,” which Lydia had once called, "boob-y," according to Stiles. He'd have to get her back for that at some point in time.

Derek held onto Stiles as tightly as he could, burying his face in Stiles’s hair and inhaling his scent. “Thank you.” Derek muttered, closing his eyes and trying to take in everything there was about this moment. Stiles and him together, finally; alone and uninterrupted.

Stiles tilted his head, trying to look up at Derek. “For what?”

“For… loving me.” Derek replied, and it was a confession, really. Because the fact that Stiles _did_ love him meant that Derek deserved it. He deserved to be loved. He hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

Stiles shifted so that he could look at Derek without breaking his neck. “It’s not a chore, Derek.” Stiles said, reaching up and placing a hand on Derek’s cheek. His thumb glided in gentle circles there, and Derek found himself leaning into the touch. “It’s been a pain in the ass, but totally worth it,” he rolled off the couch and then suddenly was on top of Derek, straddling his hips. “I get to do stuff like this,” he said, leaning over and pressing his lips softly against Derek’s nose, “and this,” he delivered another kiss to Derek’s forehead.

Derek smiled. “Is that all?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in challenge. He saw the flash in Stiles’s eyes, _challenge accepted_ , and suddenly the air grew thick with arousal.

Stiles leaned down, kissing at Derek’s mouth before nuzzling Derek’s cheek with his nose, and trailing small pecks along Derek’s jaw to his neck. “Come on,” he urged Derek, tugging at his hand while he lifted himself off of Derek and the couch. Derek followed without a word, watching Stiles as his fingers laced through his own, and he led the two of them into Derek’s room. Stiles closed the door behind them before turning to look over at Derek. “I want you to be naked in that bed within the next two minutes.” He ordered, and Derek smirked.

“That’s quite the demand,” he replied, crossing his arms stubbornly. Stiles crossed the room, reaching over to separate Derek’s arms. He reached down, slipping his fingers through Derek’s belt loops, giving them a tug to make Derek stumble forward into him.

Stiles kissed at Derek’s chin, and then got his teeth involved, nipping at Derek’s neck without warning. Derek’s breath held at the contact and the sparks it sent through him. “You’re right, it’s a _demand_.” Stiles said, his voice low. Derek raised an eyebrow.

Stiles began undoing the buttons of Derek’s shirt, letting his fingers trail down the exposed skin of Derek’s chest as he did so. Derek watched Stiles, the younger boy’s focus intent. When he got to the last button he leaned over, kissing and sucking at Derek’s collar bone.

Derek leaned his head back as Stiles worked his way up to Derek’s neck. Stiles didn’t really know how much it meant for Derek to submit to him like this; expose one of his most sensitive spots so freely. It wasn’t easy; Derek’s wolf was grumbling, protesting against allowing so easy an access to a weak point. Wolves would lunge for the throat to kill, so naturally they were wary of allowing others to do so.

But Stiles wasn’t a threat. Stiles’s lips were soft and cautious, and when he did scrape his teeth across Derek’s skin, it wasn’t meant as a challenge.

“You just want me for my body.” Derek said, trying to pull himself further away from his wolf. Stiles dragged himself away from Derek’s neck. His eyes slowly trailed Derek’s bare chest. When he finally managed to undo the last button, he slid his hands up to Derek’s shoulders where he slipped the fabric down his arms and then off of him completely.

“Your body. Your broodiness. The fact that you’re one of the sweetest, most genuine guys I know has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I’ve fallen for you.” He teased, winking at Derek with a smirk on his face. “What can I say, you’re sorta the total package.”

Derek smiled, grabbing a hold of one of Stiles’s hands and holding it to him, just over his heart. He wondered if Stiles could feel how hard his heart was beating. He could hear Stiles’s pounding frantically, which only amped up his own heartbeat.

He was so preoccupied with listening to Stiles – looking at him, wrapped up in everything that was _Stiles_ – he didn’t hear the heavy knocking on the front door. Stiles groaned, which made Derek frown. “What’s wrong?” He asked, leaning over to brush his nose against Stiles’s temple. Stiles sighed.

“There’s someone at your door,” he grumbled, and he looked down at his watch, “Jesus Christ, it’s not even noon yet, what the hell?” Derek chuckled, shrugging.

“We’re not home.” He said, leaning over and capturing Stiles’s lips in a kiss.

“Dude, I can hear you.” Scott whined from the other side of the apartment door. Derek broke the kiss, glaring at Scott through the walls. Stiles tilted his head, a curious smile on his face.

“I like the sound of that.” Stiles said, obviously not hearing Scott. Derek chuckled, giving Stiles one more kiss – making sure it was loud and wet as possible, hoping Scott would hear and get the hint.

“Seriously guys?” Scott asked, a lot louder this time. Stiles pulled away, finally hearing his best friend’s muffled voice. He sighed, looking back over at Derek.

“To be continued?” He asked, and Derek nodded. Stiles grabbed hold of Derek’s hand and the two of them made their way to the apartment’s front door. “Hey bro,” Stiles greeted Scott as he opened the door. Scott looked down at Stiles’s hand linked with Derek’s, and his eyes widened.

“Dudes! You actually pulled the trigger!” He said, throwing up his hands over his head. “That’s awesome!” Derek smiled, looking over at Stiles to see a similar brightness on his face. He leaned over, kissing Stiles’s temple – he’d _never_ get tired of kissing Stiles.

“Yep. Pulled the trigger. We’re mates now.” Stiles paused, blushing. “ _Argh_!” He said, curling his finger like a hook. Scott gave him an odd look, and Derek just chuckled. “I’m sorry, but _mates_ just sounds so… _weird_. I feel like a pirate.”

“Would you prefer partners? Boyfriends? _Lovers_?” Derek asked, thoroughly enjoying the way Stiles’s nose scrunched up.

“Wow. Nope. Mates is good.” He said, making a sour face. Scott stared at them for a long moment before he turned towards Stiles.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.” He paused, casting an awkward glance at Derek’s shirtlessness. “Lydia sent me.” Scott confessed, looking quite guilty. Stiles sighed.

“Of course she did.” He rolled his eyes. Derek shook his head, amazed at how persistent Lydia was.

“We’re all just worried about you guys. We want you to be happy.” Scott smiled. “But I can see we didn’t have anything to worry about so…” he trailed off, looking down the hallway towards where the elevators were. “I guess I’ll just be on my way.” He waved and started down the corridor, turning the corner and out of sight. Over his shoulder he called out, “Don’t forget to use protection!”

Derek took a deep breath before closing the door. “Our friends are ridiculous.” He stated and Stiles nodded his agreement. “Where were we?” Derek asked, smiling as he started tugging Stiles back towards his bedroom.

Once inside he closed the door; this time intent on not opening it for the rest of the day. Stiles slipped his shirt off over his head, tossing it onto the floor next to where Derek’s discarded shirt was. Derek had seen Stiles shirtless before – hell, he’d even seen him in nothing but a towel, water still dripping from his hair, fresh out of the shower – but somehow this felt different. More intimate.

And Derek was allowed to put his mouth _anywhere_.

He started with Stiles’s collar bone, because it just looked absolutely delicious. Stiles’s skin tasted a little salty sweet, but the small whimper and breathless gasps Derek managed to pull from Stiles, so far using only his lips and tongue, were even sweeter. As Derek began his slow investigation of the body before him, Stiles led them to the bed, lying down and pulling Derek over top of him.

He explored Stiles’s chest carefully, ensuring every inch of his skin, every mole and beauty mark and scar, were discovered. He kissed around Stiles’s nipples, delicately and cautiously, waiting until Stiles’s heartbeat began to slow before he sucked at the nipple, exciting a small gasp out of Stiles.

“Fuck Derek,” he groaned, his voice low and gravelly. Derek smirked, looking up curiously. Stiles’s eyes were darkened with lust, and the gaze of them upon Derek broke his resolve entirely. He could commit Stiles’s entire body to memory later; right now he needed to kiss those archer’s bow lips, and feel Stiles’s warmth wrapped around him.

“Take off your pants,” Derek ordered, allowing his Alpha to take him over almost completely. He knew it was important to let Stiles take the reins sometimes, but for their first time together Derek needed it more. He needed to be the dominant one; and not only because of his wolf and his Alpha, but also because he’d been hurt in the past. More than once. He’d been used and manipulated and deeply, irreversibly hurt. Even though he _knew_ Stiles wouldn’t ever hurt him, he wasn’t ready to let go yet. Not completely.

Stiles obeyed without hesitation, quickly but clumsily undoing his belt and jeans. Derek took a step off the end of the bed, allowing him to jerk off Stiles’s pants as soon as they were loose. Stiles’s boxers remained where they were, though they slid a small distance down Stiles’s hips. Derek could smell the intense arousal, and Stiles’s boxers were tented.

Stiles’s cheeks were red and his heart was hammering wildly in his chest. Derek leaned over, climbing back onto the bed and over Stiles. He rested one hand beside Stiles’s hips, while the other slipped underneath the bottom of Stiles’s boxers, resting on the outside of his thigh. He reached down, kissing just above the band of his boxers.

After a few kisses, he bit down on the material and dragged it downwards. Stiles’s dick flopped down on his belly as Derek pulled the boxers down his thighs, and completed the task with his hands. He threw them over his shoulder, hearing something get knocked over but not caring. Stiles let out a breathless laugh, his stomach tensing with the effort.

“I’m loving this whole devil may care attitude, but I think you just broke your laptop.” Stiles said, raising himself up on his elbows to look over Derek’s shoulders. Derek frowned, looking over to see that he’d somehow managed to knock his laptop off of his desk. He looked over at Stiles, his eyes wide in surprise and confusion.

He started chuckling, and Stiles started laughing, and they didn’t stop laughing until Stiles wiped a tear out of his eye and reached up to lace his fingers with Derek’s. “How did that even happen?” Derek asked. It’s not like boxers were heavy enough to knock over a laptop.

Stiles smirked. “Someone doesn’t know his own strength, apparently.” He teased and Derek smiled.

“I’ll buy a new one tomorrow.” He said, and leaned over to place fervent kisses along Stiles’s jawline. Stiles hummed his approval but lightly pushed at Derek’s chest.

“Enough foreplay asshole,” he said, and he reached over to start undoing Derek’s jeans. Derek let him, and when the button was undone and the zipper was down, he stood from the bed and slid them and his boxers off. Stiles made a strangled noise. “Holy _fuck_.” He whimpered, biting on his lower lip.

Derek climbed back up onto the bed, placing a leg in between Stiles’s legs as he hovered over him. “I love you.” He said quietly, feeling a swell of emotion bubbling up in his chest. Sex wasn’t just sex. At least, not with Derek. He knew other werewolves who didn’t care about finding their mates, just finding someone to fuck. But Derek couldn’t operate like that. He needed to love; to make love.

Stiles reached up, placing his hand on the back of Derek’s neck and pulling him down into a long, deep kiss. When their lips finally parted, Stiles whispered against Derek’s lips, “I love you too.” And that was the precise moment that all of Derek’s walls came tumbling down. And it didn’t matter that he’d been hurt before, because he’d never be hurt again. Not by Stiles. And Stiles was the only one who ever really mattered.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

Derek’s fingers worked Stiles open slowly and carefully. At first it felt a little painful and uncomfortable, as it always did in the beginning, but the small sting transitioned into an ache for more. After Derek added a third finger, pressing against Stiles’s walls to expand them and prepare them for more, Stiles grabbed at Derek’s wrist.

“It’s okay Derek, I’m ready.” Stiles said, already a little breathless. Derek gave him a dark look, partly full of lust and partly caution. With his free hand, Derek reached towards the bedside table where the bottle of lube he’d used was sitting, alongside a condom. Stiles stopped him. “I… I don’t want to use a condom. I want to feel you Derek, not just some rubber.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, still pressing. Stiles bit his lip, nodding.

“Yeah. I’m sure.” He answered, and slowly Derek pulled his fingers out, leaving Stiles feeling a little cold and empty. He spread his legs a little wider around Derek’s hips, grabbing hold of Derek’s arms as Derek lined himself up.

Derek’s dick was beautiful. Like, it was a nice dick. It wasn’t too big, and it wasn’t too small. And when Derek pressed it against Stiles’s hole, pushing in slowly; well it fit _just right_.

Stiles’s mouth fell open, and he stifled a moan as the heat and hardness of Derek filled him. Derek was looking down at him, holding still when Stiles shut his eyes tightly. “Are you okay?” Derek asked, his voice full of worry. Stiles swallowed, licking at his lips.

“Y-yeah. God yeah. Fucking _move_ Derek. Please.” Stiles pleaded, his fingers digging into Derek’s skin. Derek didn’t have to be told twice. He started rocking slowly, sliding his length just enough out that he could slam back in. Stiles lifted one hand over his head, bracing himself against the wall. He spread his legs as much as he could, giving Derek more space to work with.

After a few clumsy thrusts while Derek repositioned himself, Stiles felt the pleasant tingling of Derek’s dick hitting his sweet spot. His toes twitched and he let out a moan that he would be embarrassed about later. Derek let out a low rumble, hitting the spot again and setting all of Stiles’s nerves on fire.

He could feel the edge of his orgasm, but fought against it. He wanted this to last forever, even though he knew it wouldn’t. “Fuck, you’re so perfect.” Derek grated out, and that definitely didn’t help in calming Stiles. He gripped at Derek’s shoulder, trying to keep himself grounded.

“You’re the one that’s perfect,” Stiles managed to say before another shock ripped through him. His cock was leaking precome, spilling onto Stiles’s stomach and transferring onto Derek’s every time he pressed in. “You feel so fuckin’ right inside of me,” Stiles ground out, “never want you to stop.”

Derek’s thrust became faster, and the amount of times he hit Stiles’s golden spot began to increase. Each spike of pleasure sent him closer and closer to hitting his high. But he wanted Derek right there with him, so he kept talking.

“Make me yours,” he said, trying to appeal to Derek’s wolf now, “I wanna feel your come inside me.” Derek let out a small groan, his hips bucking sporadically at the sound of Stiles’s voice. “Touch me, please,” Stiles asked before leaning up and sucking a hard kiss on Derek’s chin. Derek reached down, grabbing a hold of Stiles’s dick, jerking him off to an uneven rhythm while he thrust into Stiles.

Stiles couldn’t fight it anymore then; with Derek touching him and fucking him at the same time. His entire body tightened as his orgasm tore through him, his come spurting out in hot streams across his stomach. Derek’s eyes glowed a deep red, and Stiles could feel the warmth spreading inside of him as Derek came too, his hips jerking and his hand applying a little bit too much pressure to Stiles’s extremely sensitive dick.

Their heavy breathing filled the air, and Derek lowered himself. Stiles shifted to his side, allowing for Derek to nestle in beside him without having to pull out quite yet. His eyes were heavy lidded, and he lazily kissed at Stiles’s face.

They lay there, side by side, for a while. Until the come felt uncomfortably sticky and crusty, and just generally gross. Derek pulled out slowly, kissing at Stiles’s lower lip to try and distract him from the feeling of loss. “Shower?” He asked and Stiles smiled.

Yeah, a slow, lazy shower sounded perfect.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

It was around four thirty when Stiles heard his phone vibrating on the kitchen counter. He untangled himself from Derek’s limbs and stood from the couch, ignoring Derek’s pleading gaze for him to come back. He retrieved his phone, seeing that he had an incoming call from his father, and hit the answer button.

“Hey dad, what’s up?” He asked, and leaned against the counter. Derek had apparently followed him into the room, because he felt hands wrapping around his waist. Derek rested his chin on Stiles’s shoulder, breathing in intently.

“Hey son, is there any chance I’m gonna see you again? Or is Derek ever going to give you back?” His dad asked, and Derek snorted.

“Never.” He mumbled, kissing at the crook between Stiles's neck and shoulder.

“He’s not holding me captive, you know.” Stiles replied, tilting his head and shivering as Derek kissed along his neck. “I can come home whenever I want.”

“Good. Then you’ll be here for dinner. Melissa and I were going to go out but she wants to have a family sit down.” His dad said, and then, “And bring Derek along with you too.” There was an unspoken threat there. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Dad, if you’re going to try and intimidate him, let me just remind you that he has fangs and claws.” Stiles’s dad did this with all of the people Stiles had brought home over the years – though there hadn’t been many of them. His dad made a grumbling sound.

“That’s why I have a shotgun, son.” The sheriff replied, and Derek buried his face in Stiles’s throat, shaking with silent laughter. Stiles groaned.

“You’re beyond ridiculous, oh my _god_.” He complained, hiding his face in his hand. He could practically hear his father crossing his arms.

“Just come home Stiles. I’d like to spend some time with my son before he heads back off to college for another five months.” And Stiles did feel a _little_ guilty about the fact he’d barely spent time with his father, but then again, it was really hard to regret anything when he had Derek wrapped around him.

“Alright, fine. We’ll be there soon.” Stiles said, and ended the call, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I guess this means no Marvel movie marathon.” They’d planned on watching Thor, Iron Man 2, Captain America, and the Avengers (though they probably wouldn’t have made it passed Thor because sex marathons sometimes took precedence over superhero movies – though not always). Derek shrugged.

“We have the rest of this week for that, and pretty much all of next week.” He said, smiling. Stiles’s smiled waned.

“Right. Because you’re leaving.” He said, feeling frustration beginning to resurface. They still hadn’t dealt with the whole issue of Derek taking someone along with him. “You’re leaving on the third, right? So next Friday?”

Derek sighed, nodded. “It’ll only be for a week Stiles. And I promise I’ll be careful.” He paused, frowning. “When we go to your house I need to borrow your laptop.” He smirked. “Mine’s a little broken.” Stiles chuckled.

“Yeah, I know.” He replied, shaking his head in amusement. “The consequences of rough sex.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “We hadn’t even started yet before I broke it.” Stiles remembered Derek’s wide eyes after he’d realized what had happened. It had all been very comical.

“Okay, so rough foreplay.” He winked and Derek shook his head, trying hard to fight against his grin. “Anyways, so you’re going to Skype Peter?” The sooner Derek got it over and done with, the better.

Derek was quiet for a moment. “Yeah. And everything’s gonna work out, okay? Don’t worry.” Derek gave him a tight hug before leaving the room to go and turn off the television. Stiles grabbed his jacket and shoes, and waited for Derek at the door.

As soon as Derek grabbed his keys and jacket, slipping on his own shoes, they were out the door and on their way to Stiles’s father’s house, where there may or may not have been a loaded shotgun waiting for them.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

"Glad you could make it," Mr. Stilinski greeted his son and Derek when they finally arrived. Stiles had demanded they take a detour to the nearest Starbucks, because apparently his morning coffee had worn off. They weren't late exactly, but Derek had been hoping to be a little early. To make a good impression on Stiles's dad, even though he knew John and John knew him.

Stiles was Derek's _mate_ now though, which made things different. It was still important that Derek had the sheriff's approval. So the fact that they arrived at the house at five fifteen instead of five o'clock sharp, was a pretty big deal. To Derek at least. If John minded, he didn't really say.

"Scott's upstairs with Isaac, Allison's in the kitchen with Melissa, and you two are following me into the dining room to help set up for dinner." John ordered, and as soon as Derek's shoes were off and his coat hung up in the closet instead of carelessly tossed over the back of the couch like Stiles's, Derek was grabbing plates and napkins, setting up the long table in the dining room.

He caught John smirking at him – a smile that was eerily similar to Stiles's grin when he knew he was being a shit head. After he and Stiles finished setting up, Stiles turned to him with a curious look on his face. "Are you okay?" He asked, resting his hand over Derek's and giving it an encouraging squeeze.

Derek smiled, nodding. "I'm fine," he answered, looking over Stiles's shoulder into the living room where Stiles's dad was sitting on the couch, watching TV. Stiles followed Derek's gaze before Derek could look away.

"Oh my God. He's totally stressing you out!" Stiles realized, and then turned towards his dad. "Dad you need to stop stressing my boyfriend out!"

Derek just about started choking. John looked over his shoulder, frowning in confusion. "I'm not doing anything Stiles. If Derek's stressed out it’s probably because of you."

Allison poked her head out of the kitchen doorway. She smiled brightly at them. "You just called Derek your boyfriend!" She exclaimed and ran over to them, pulling them both into a three way hug. "It's official!" She squealed happily, pulling away and clapping her hands excitedly.

"Yep." Stiles agreed. Derek slung his arm over Stiles's shoulder.

"He's my mate." Derek said, knowing Allison would understand that better than the label of boyfriend. She nodded knowingly, smiling at him.

"Glad you finally figured that out," she laughed, and Derek chuckled. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some very delicious pork chops to check on." And then she went on her way back into the kitchen.

Stiles pulled away from Derek, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. "Did you tell Lydia yet?" Derek asked, knowing full well that if Lydia heard it from anyone besides Stiles, she'd probably castrate him in his sleep.

"Doing that now." Stiles said, typing frantically. "Done!" He announced, slipping his phone away and then nudging his way back under Derek's arm. “Alright, let’s go upstairs.” Stiles said, urging Derek towards the direction of the stairs. Derek let Stiles walk ahead of him, but before following he turned towards John.

“Is there anything else we can do to help out, sir?” He asked, and the sheriff looked over his shoulder at him.

“It’s alright Derek, just because you’re dating my son doesn’t mean you have to try and win me over.” John said, smiling cheekily. Derek smiled and blushed, bowing his head to hide that fact. “Although, if you were looking for some brownie points, you could buy me a cheesecake and not tell my son or Melissa about it.” Stiles had already made his way upstairs.

Derek smirked. “Sounds good.”

The sheriff waved him off, which was Derek’s cue to go and see where Stiles had gone off to. He went upstairs, taking three steps at a time, and peeked into Stiles’s bedroom first. It was empty. He continued down the hallway until he hit Scott’s open bedroom door and saw Scott, Isaac, and Stiles strewn across Scott’s bed.

Scott and Isaac both had headsets on, and they looked like they were playing CoD, or some other first person shooter. Even though Scott and Isaac were the ones with the mics, it didn’t stop Stiles from shouting at the television.

“Fucking camper! You little pussy!” He yelled. Derek watched him, amused by how intense gaming made him. “Oh. Nice. Yeah, t-bag Isaac. Real fucking classy.” Stiles jerked his hand towards the screen. “What the _fuck_?” Isaac and Scott were chuckling, also amused by Stiles.

“Dude,” Scott laughed, shaking his head, “you need to chill.” Stiles made an offended face at his friend.

“Where’s your passion Scott? Your _joie de vivre?_ ” Stiles asked, and fell back on the bed. He angled his head towards the door, seeing Derek for the first time. He smiled. “Hey you.”

Derek smiled back, crossing the room and sitting down on the bed next to his mate. “Hey.” He replied, leaning down to give Stiles a warm kiss. He started to pull away but Stiles had reached up, grabbing the front of Derek’s shirt to keep him there.

What was supposed to be a short, PDA free kiss, turned out into a mini make out session that had Scott whining about not doing it on his bed. Stiles’s response was to pull Derek over top of him, grabbing Derek’s ass and making mock moaning sounds.

“Seriously?” Scott whimpered when Derek’s foot accidentally knocked into the back of Scott’s head. Stiles pulled away, and Derek used this opportunity to kiss and suck at his neck instead, going over the marks he’d left before.

“Payback for having sex on my bed with Allison when I wasn’t here.” Stiles said, and Derek started laughing silently into Stiles’s neck. Scott groaned.

“It was just the one time Stiles.” Scott said and Stiles’ heart kicked up in anger.

“So you _did_ have _sex in my bed_ , you _son of a bitch_!” Stiles growled, and then lunged at Scott’s back. Derek sat back on the bed, watching Stiles try, and fail, at giving Scott a noogie. Instead Scott put Stiles in a headlock, apologizing profusely and trying to get Stiles to calm down. “No! You bastard! You defiled my childhood bedroom! _I_ haven’t even had sex in it yet!”

“The keyword being _yet_.” Isaac smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Derek. Derek gave him a deadpan look.

“Boys?” Melissa called up to them. “Dinner time!”

Scott released Stiles from the headlock, taking a gigantic step away from him and holding out his hands defensively. “We can continue this after dinner, okay?” He asked and reluctantly Stiles nodded. Scott visibly relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief before darting out of the room. Stiles was about to turn and follow when Isaac cleared his throat.

“Do you mind if we talk for a second?” He asked, setting his controller down and switching off the television. He looked over at Derek, a timid smile on his lips. “Alone. If that’s alright, Derek.” Derek looked over at Stiles, making sure he was comfortable with Derek leaving. Stiles nodded, smiling easily.

“No worries dude.” He paused, looking over at Derek with a thoughtful expression. “You could probably log in to Skype, see if Peter’s online and give him a call.” Derek nodded, regarding the other two with a curious look before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

He knew he probably shouldn’t, but he listened in anyways while he booted Stiles’s laptop up.

“I’m sorry for leaving yesterday,” Isaac had begun with, “I should’ve warned you.”

“Why didn’t you?” Stiles asked, and he sounded a little angry.

“They’d been discussing it for more than half an hour, whether they should tell you guys yet or not. Your dad thought they should wait but Melissa was pretty adamant about telling you. _Specifically_ you first, before Scott. Because she knew how difficult it would be for you to hear it, and if someone else told you before they could, your reaction probably would’ve been worse.” Isaac sounded sincerely sorry.

Derek could only guess that this conversation was about Stiles’s dad getting married to Melissa. “Well… thanks, then. I’m not angry. Well, I was. But not anymore. So let’s bring it in for a bro hug and then go downstairs and eat.” Stiles replied, and that was the end of that.

Derek smiled, proud of how quickly Stiles had been able to adjust and forgive, and move on towards a better future for the pack. Which reminded Derek that he had to do the same.

He pulled open Skype and read through his contacts list, seeing that his uncle was indeed online. He took a deep breath and clicked the ‘video call’ option at the top of the screen below his uncle’s name and information.

It rang through twice; a tiny bit of hope surfacing in Derek’s chest that Peter wouldn’t pick up. A hope that was squashed as soon as he heard the beep to signal the other end had accepted the call.

“Derek? To what do I owe this pleasure? Have you decided to come up earlier and save your poor uncle from certain death?” Peter asked, his face becoming visible in the square screen. Derek rolled his eyes.

“No. But since I’m going to be doing you a favour by coming down there next week, I need you to do me a favour.” Derek paused, waiting for Peter to snark him. He didn’t. He waited patiently for Derek to continue, which he did. “Book me another ticket. I’m bringing Boyd with me.”

Peter tilted his head. “Done.” He said. “Is that all?”

Derek blinked. For some reason he’d thought it’d be a lot harder than that. “Uhh… yeah. I guess that’s all. You’re sure Ian will be okay with this?”

Peter shrugged. “The more the merrier. We need as much backup as we can get. And, as I recall, Boyd’s one of your… more aggressive members. We need brawn.” He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. “So we’ll see the both of you next Friday?” He asked, and Derek nodded. “Good. Your flight’s scheduled for five in the evening. You’ll be across the border and landing at the airport for around midnight, after working in the time difference.”

“Alright. Boyd and I will see you then.” Derek said, going to end the call.

“Looking forward to it.” Peter responded, his smile setting Derek’s nerves on edge, because his uncle was creepy. No wonder none of his pack liked him. The wonder was that Ian's pack even allowed Peter to stay for as long as he was. Derek had no doubt that Aria had a lot to do with allowing him to stay there, but it wasn’t his problem anymore.

Peter could be stuck in the Arctic and Derek still wouldn’t care; as long as he was far enough away from Derek and his pack.

“You get a hold of him?” Stiles asked, popping his head through his bedroom doorway.

Derek nodded, letting out a small breath. “Yeah. He said I can bring Boyd with me.” He paused, raising an eyebrow at the fact Stiles didn’t brighten at the news. “I thought you’d be a little happier.”

Stiles shrugged. “Honestly I don’t even want you going. But if you have to then I’m glad Boyd’ll be there to watch your back since I can’t. Although,” he paused, biting nervously at his lips, “Erica’s going to pitch a fit about it. I don’t blame her though.”

Derek smiled. “Good, if you don’t blame her then you get to tell her. This was your idea, after all.” Derek wasn’t about to face down Erica. Especially if she was on her period. And on the night of a full moon. Luckily the full moon had already passed this month, but she might be on her period.

Derek wasn’t going to chance it.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Wussy.”

Derek chuckled. “Smart, actually.”

Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand, pulling him out of the room and down the stairs. Everyone was already sitting down at the table, dishing out the food. “Well, we’ve got eight days together before you have to leave, so we’ll just have to make the best of it.” Stiles smiled, and the two of them sat down to join the others around the table.

Derek still had to go into the shop and work; he’d taken one extra day off already to be with Stiles, and since he was leaving the next week he’d have to close down the shop. There were a few things he needed to do – send out orders, review stock and inventory – before he left, otherwise he’d be saddled with even more work when he got back, which wasn’t ideal.

But yeah, every spare moment he had would be dedicated to the pack. New Year’s Eve was still on the horizon, and Lydia’s parties _always_ got out of control. So that’s what he had to look forward to. He’d focus on the pack and Stiles, and worry about having to leave them later.


	10. Chapter 10

“Lydia just texted me, she said-,” Stiles was saying, and he would’ve finished the thought had his entire brain not shut down the moment Derek stepped out of his bedroom. The dark purple dress shirt Derek had bought on their trip to the mall with Lydia and Allison was hanging open, freely exposing his chest and stomach. His jeans were still undone as well, like Derek had only gotten half-dressed on purpose. Stiles cleared his throat. “She said the party’s cancelled.”

Derek smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Did she?” He asked, amused. Stiles nodded, his eyes trailing slowly down Derek’s body as he bit his lower lip. Derek chuckled, shaking his head.

“Yeah, so I guess we’ll just have to stay in tonight,” Stiles said as he walked over to Derek and in one fluid motion hooked his fingers into Derek’s jeans belt loops and tugged him against him. “Oh well, there’s always next year.” He sighed, shrugging, and then leaned over to kiss Derek’s neck.

Derek rumbled, grabbing Stiles’s ass, which made Stiles involuntarily (actually it was quite voluntary) jerk his hips against Derek’s. “What did Lydia really say?” Derek asked, nudging at Stiles’s nose. Stiles frowned, pecking Derek’s lips in an attempt to distract him.

“Party’s cancelled.” Stiles said again, taking a step towards Derek to make the other man take a step backwards, conveniently in the direction of the bed. Derek’s lips were soft against Stiles’s, answering every tug of his lips. “Shirt off.” Stiles ordered, leaning away to slide his hands underneath the fabric. Derek's hands grabbed hold of Stiles's, halting any further attempts to undress him.

“We’re gonna be late.” Derek grumbled, but his fingers were already tugging at Stiles’s shirt. Stiles smirked.

“Late for what? We don’t have anywhere else to be tonight.” Stiles helped Derek pull his shirt off, and then Derek reached down to begin undoing Stiles’s jeans. While Stiles was preoccupied with kissing Derek, Derek slipped his hand into Stiles’s pocket.

Suddenly Stiles was on his back and staring up at Derek, who now held Stiles’s phone. “'Remember to bring a few bags of chips, see you guys at seven,'” Derek read Lydia’s text aloud. He looked down at Stiles, tossing the cellphone onto his stomach. “Sounds like the party’s still on, Stiles.” Derek buttoned up his shirt and turned towards the doorway. “I’ll be waiting downstairs.” He said, and before Stiles could protest he left the room.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“You’re late.” Lydia greeted them, grabbing the bag out of Derek’s hand and passing it to Jackson.

“You can thank Stiles for that,” Derek supplied, and then walked passed Lydia into the house before she invited him inside. She looked a little perturbed but didn’t say anything, instead turning her glare on Stiles.

“I told you to be here for seven. It is now seven thirty and everyone else is going to be here in half an hour.” She grabbed his hand, leading him inside the house and passing Derek in the hallway. “We still have to decorate the living room and dining room, and we have to put up the banner in the front foyer.” She shoved a box into his arms, nudging him towards the living room first. “Scott’s in the kitchen setting up the food with Jackson, and Allison is downstairs with Danny making sure the music’s set up. You’re on balloon duty.”

“Perfect job for Stiles,” Isaac said as Stiles and Lydia entered the living room. He was over by the back door hanging up streamers. He paused to look over his shoulder at the two of them. “I’ve heard he’s really great at blowing.” He winked and the innuendo wasn’t lost on Stiles.

Lydia rolled her eyes and led Stiles over to what looked like an oxygen tank. “Sorry boys, no blow jobs tonight. I want my balloons to be filled with helium; not saliva, carbon dioxide, and disappointment.” She reached into the box in Stiles’s arms and pulled out a plastic bag full of deflated balloons. “You know how to do this, right? Just put the tip inside the opening and twist the nozzle.”

Isaac and Stiles exchanged glances before they both started laughing hysterically. “Just the tip Lydia? That’s no fun.” Isaac laughed and Lydia crossed the room just so she could punch him on the arm.

“It’s like dealing with five year olds.” She muttered and then left the room, leaving Stiles and Isaac to their innuendoes and juvenile jokes.

After ten minutes passed by Lydia returned and grabbed Isaac, depositing him somewhere else in the house before coming back to drag Stiles into the dining room. They passed Derek in the hall again; his arms were full of containers of food that he was bringing to the kitchen. The two of them paused just long enough for Derek to lean over and give the corner of Stiles’s mouth a kiss before Lydia wrenched them apart and continued on her mad march towards the dining room.

“There will be time for kissing later,” she dictated, “Right now there’s only time for making sure everything’s set up properly.” She ushered Stiles into the room and towards the long table pushed against the wall. There was an array of desserts being displayed, all looking delectably delicious. At the end of the table there was a chocolate fountain that was calling Stiles’s name, but even before he reached for a strawberry Lydia directed him towards the other side of the room.

“Just one-,” he tried, making one last attempt at grabbing the fruit but she smacked his hand away.

“No.” She stated, crossing her arms stubbornly before waving her hand at him expectantly. “Go.” She pointed towards the stacked chairs in the corner. “I need those set up around the table, and then you’re done. You can eat all the chocolate you want and kiss your Greek God werewolf boyfriend for the rest of the night.”

Stiles smirked, quickly crossing over to the chairs and pulling them apart. “That’s all the incentive I need.” He accomplished the task in under two minute’s time and found his way to Derek just as swiftly. He was in the basement grabbing the last bag of cardboard plates and plastic cutlery when Stiles found him. “I’m free!” Stiles exclaimed as he wrapped his arms around Derek’s shoulders, hugging the man from behind.

Derek snorted, patting gently at Stiles’s hands. “For now. I’m sure there’ll be a round two.” He twisted so that he could face Stiles and wrap his own arms around Stiles’s waist to pull them into an even tighter hug. “Are Erica and Boyd here yet?” He asked, resting his cheek on Stiles’s shoulder, delivering lazy kisses to his neck.

“Yeah,” Stiles answered, and he was proud of how steady his voice was. He’d never get used to the way Derek’s lips made him feel; and the tiny jolts of energy that sparked with every kiss were more than a little distracting. “Other people are here too now. Lydia and Jackson invited everyone basically. Dad and Melissa just got here, and Deaton brought his sister.”

Lydia popped her head into the room and cleared her throat. “You two are needed upstairs – and bring the plates and forks with you, please and thank you.” She called out and then disappeared again.

Derek sighed and pulled away from Stiles, linking their fingers together as he led them up the stairs and then again to the second floor. They dropped the plates and cutlery off in the kitchen before making their way up to Lydia’s bedroom where the rest of the pack had assembled.

In the middle of the room there was a table full of bottles that were full of _something_. Stiles had smelled it halfway up the stairs. “Is that what I think it is?” He asked, crinkling his nose. Derek chuckled, pulling Stiles in under his arm.

“The Hale Wolfsbane Mead.” Derek informed the room. Allison looked like she hated the smell just as much as Stiles, but the werewolves in the room seemed eager to taste the foul-smelling booze. “Humans react differently than the ‘weres do to it; which is a good thing. If a human tried to drink it they’d probably die.” Stiles remembered Peter's warning of possible coma inducement from the beverage.

Jackson opened the first bottle and took a swig, licking his lips afterwards like he wanted to taste every last trace of the substance. “This is delicious.” He said, taking another long drink. Derek moved towards Jackson, grabbing the bottle out of his grasp and setting it back down on the table.

“Pace yourself,” Derek instructed, tossing a bottle over to Isaac. He eyed the bottle, seeming a little unsure.

“What’s in this anyways?” He asked, unscrewing the cap and sniffing experimentally.

“The same basic ingredients in any mead; water, yeast, honey, a bit of spice. Oh, and there’s wolfsbane, hence the name.” Erica explained. Jackson grew pale and Isaac threw the bottle across the room. The bottle shattered, mead splashing against the wall and showering the carpet. “Isaac!”

“Are you trying to kill us?” Isaac yelled, baring his teeth. Derek stepped in between the two of them, ensuring they kept a safe distance from each other.

“Both of you need to relax.” He said, raising a steadying hand to Isaac’s shoulder. “Jackson, you can start breathing again.” Jackson took in a deep breath of air, but he still looked like he’d just swallowed his tongue. “The dose in the mead isn’t strong enough to kill you. All it does is prevent your healing for a while so you can feel the effects of the alcohol.”

“Which is why I can’t drink any of my creation,” Erica said sadly, wiping away a fake tear. Stiles frowned, confused for a moment. But then he remembered. Without her super werewolf healing Erica would have a seizure.

Sometimes it was easy to forget things from before their werewolf days. Stiles felt terrible about forgetting such a profound thing, but he couldn’t really blame himself. None of them saw Erica as they used to, back before they ever really knew her. She’d always been so quiet and estranged, and her seizures could be unsettling because of how scary they were.

But she wasn’t that Erica any more. She’d always been strong and she’d always been smart and beautiful, but her confidence had changed her. She didn’t hide any more. She was going to be who she was no matter what anyone thought or said. So that’s who Stiles saw every time he looked at her.

“The rest of you better get drunk though,” Erica continued, passing out the bottles to each of the wolves, “I didn’t spend two months fermenting this shit just to let it go to waste. I expect to be thoroughly amused by all the drunken antics tonight.” She paused at Boyd, handing him two bottles instead of one. “Drink up babe. Peter told me one of the side effects of this stuff makes you super horny so I expect to have mind-blowing sex tonight.”

From across the room Stiles saw Allison sneak another bottle and hand it to Scott. Stiles stifled a chuckle and she looked over at him, winking and wiggling her eyebrows at him.

“Aren’t you drinking Der?” Erica asked, which caught Stiles’s attention. Derek was shaking his head, refusing to accept the bottle being offered to him.

“I think I’ll sit this one out.” He replied, taking the bottle from Erica and setting it back down on the table. “I need to make sure you all stay under control tonight and I can’t do that if I’m the one leading the charge into inebriation station.”

Stiles smirked. “That was a really cheesy rhyme Derek, wow.”

Derek sighed. “I know.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s get this party started!” Erica said, finally handing Allison, Lydia, and Stiles a beer each. “Cheers!” She cried happily, raising her cup of pop in the air. The rest of them followed suit, the room filling with a collective, “Cheers!” and the clinking of bottles.

That’s really the last of the night that Stiles remembered clearly, because when Erica said she expected them all to get drunk she meant _everyone_. Including the humans. _Especially_ the humans.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“I think you’re really, really hot. Do you know that? I think you know that. You have to know that because I just told you.” Stiles’s words were lazy and slurred and Derek couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m serious!”

Derek leaned over, kissing the tip of Stiles's nose. For a moment Stiles stopped breathing and his heart jackhammered, which was concerning, but his breathing started back up again when Derek started rubbing soothing circles with his thumb on Stiles's arm.

"What's wrong?" Derek asked, watching Stiles carefully.

“Nothin’,” Stiles answered, smiling contentedly. Derek didn't know how much Stiles had drank; Erica had somehow managed to get a few shots into Stiles while Derek wasn't looking. He wanted Stiles to have a good time, but he didn't want his mate to overdo it. Tomorrow he'd be feeling the aftershock of it, which meant he'd be in pain, and that was definitely not something Derek wanted.

Erica apparently didn't care about that though, because she walked into the room with another shot of tequila in her hand and her eyes trained on Stiles. "Just one more Derek, I promise. He's drunk but he's not drunk enough to tell me about all the hot sex you're having. I think this one will do it though." She tried to pass the shot to Stiles but Derek intervened, taking the shot for himself before Erica could protest.

He placed the empty shot glass back into Erica's still outstretched hand. "Thanks that's just what I needed." She rolled her eyes and plopped down next to them on the couch, cuddling in to Stiles's side. Stiles made a happy noise, nuzzling the top of Erica's head with his cheek.

"Erica!" He exclaimed happily, throwing his arms around her in a hug of drunken affection. "I love you, man." She squealed with delight, hugging him back tightly.

“Aww, love you too babe.” She smiled, kissing his cheek. She looked over at Derek a moment after, her eyes full of worry. He smirked and shook his head. She hadn’t overstepped any boundaries. Stiles was still Stiles. He wanted to hug Erica and she wanted to hug him so it was okay, Derek wouldn’t pull out his Alpha.

“Hey,” Stiles said, hiccupping. Derek shook his head, completely endeared by the drunken boy cuddled close under his arm. “Hey! What time s’it?” Stiles squirmed his arm free from where it had been pinned underneath Erica. Not knowing his own strength, as soon as he forced himself free his arm swung out and almost smacked Derek in the face. Derek reacted in time though, grabbing hold of Stiles’s wrist in midair.

Erica burst out into an uncontrollable laughter. Stiles was biting on his lower lip, looking surprised and feigning innocence all at the same time. Derek shook his head, sighing a bit as he turned Stiles’s wrist a little so he could get a look at the watch. “Eleven forty. Twenty minutes left in the year.” He dropped Stiles’s arm, which incidentally resulted in Stiles’s hand falling straight down in between Derek’s legs.

Stiles started chuckling and slowly slid his hand across Derek’s thigh to his knee instead. “Twenty minutes…? Mmm…” Stiles murmured, giving Derek’s knee a soft squeeze. Suddenly Erica was standing and walking away, her hair swinging behind her as she did.

“I know that _mmm_. That’s my cue to find Boyd and your cue to find a room to get filthy sexy in.” She spoke over her shoulder, only loud enough for Derek to hear. Derek rolled his eyes and tried not to smirk.

“What’d she say?” Stiles asked, draping himself across Derek’s lap and looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. Derek peered around the room to see that there were only two other people in there with them; both of whom were staring at Derek and Stiles like they were waiting to watch a porno unfold. Derek patted Stiles’s chest and motioned for him to sit up.

“Come on,” Derek prompted, helping Stiles to an upright position before standing them both up from the couch and leading them away from prying eyes. He navigated through the maze that was Lydia’s huge house and managed to find his way to the basement where he could hear the majority of their pack bickering at each other.

The moment he opened the basement door all the chattering stopped and he heard clumsy footsteps stumbling towards the bottom of the stairs. “Derek? Is that you?” Scott asked and appeared. His hair was a mess and his eyes had an unfocused look to them. “It is! Awesome! Bring Stiles down with you!” He ran halfway up the stairs and then jumped down again, like an excited puppy that had no idea what to do with itself.

Allison walked up behind him and smiled at Stiles and Derek. “Lydia’s grabbing Jackson. We’re all going to do the countdown down here together, as a pack.” She linked her fingers through Scott’s and gingerly began leading him away. Stiles tried to take a step down the stairs but started falling forwards, somehow tangling his feet in the normally easy movement.

Derek caught him, swiftly scooping Stiles up in his arms and carrying him down the stairs fireman style. “Whoa!” Stiles exclaimed, blinking a few times. “How did you just _do_ that?” He looked completely amazed. Derek huffed out a laugh and placed Stiles back on his feet at the bottom of the stairs. Together they walked down the hallway and into the back room of the basement where the rest of their pack was lounging.

Even Melissa and Stiles’s father were down there, both of them laughing at Scott and his inability to stand up without tipping over slowly. Wolfsbane Mead was like tequila for werewolves. Didn’t take much to put you on your ass.

“You came!” Erica said, a sly smirk on her face. Derek braced himself for whatever innuendo was sure to follow. “And here I thought you’d be coming somewhere else for New Year’s. Possibly Lydia’s room or the dining room table.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at her and she wiggled hers at him. Boyd looked like he was passed out next to her on the couch, his eyes closed and breathing even. Derek nodded at him, tilting his head in question. “I thought out of everyone he’d be the last one to pass out.” Erica shrugged.

“He was tired before we got here. Holidays with all his relatives tend to knock the shit outta him.” She patted Boyd’s cheek, gently stroking circles with her thumb. “I really love his family.” She smiled, clearly replaying a memory over in her head. “I’m glad you found us. Without you we wouldn’t have found each other.”

Derek chuckled. “Yeah, but you could’ve died.”

Erica smirked. “But we didn’t, so it doesn’t matter. We get to have a beautiful future together and no one can take that away from us. Ever. So you better bring him back to me Derek.” She kissed Boyd’s forehead and linked her fingers through his, giving his hand a tight squeeze. His eyes cracked open and he smiled, curling into her as much as he could on the confined space of the couch.

“Love you,” he murmured, sleepily kissing her cheek.

“I love you too baby.” Erica smiled. Derek brought Stiles to the other side of the room to give Erica and Boyd their moment before the rest of the room exploded into the excitement of New Year’s Eve transitioning into New Year’s Day. He took a seat next to Danny on the couch, pulling Stiles down into his lap.

“He looks like he’s having a good time.” Danny laughed as Stiles started wiggling in Derek’s lap, attempting to dance to the music that was a continuous background noise to the evening. Derek adjusted in his seat to avoid the very unhappy, happy reaction he was having in a room full of sensitive, drunken werewolves.

Scott looked mortified for a moment before Allison snuck up behind him and grabbed his ass. It was safe to say they’d be bringing in the New Year high on fumes of arousal and booze, which wasn’t the worst way to kick off a new year.

“Five minutes!” Lydia announced as she walked briskly into the room dragging Jackson close behind her. “Five minutes until the New Year!”

The whole room cheered, the drunken ones louder than the rest. They all chattered away excitedly for the next four minutes, and for the final minute turned on the large flat screen against the wall and tuned in to the New York City countdown. Fifty seconds were already on the clock, ticking away a second at a time.

By the time ten seconds were left the entire room was already screaming out the numbers at the top of their lungs.

_TEN!_

_NINE!_

_EIGHT!_

_SEVEN!_

_SIX!_

_FIVE!_

_FOUR!_

_THREE!_

_TWO!_

On one, Stiles was pulling Derek into an open mouthed kiss.

Stiles separated their lips only slightly, just long enough to whisper, “I love you.”

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“I love you.” Stiles said, his voice shaking. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, threatening to convulse and kill him if he didn’t calm down soon.

“I know.” Derek replied, and they shared a private smile. During Stiles’s recovery from New Year’s Eve they spent the next few days embarking on a journey to watch all of the Star Wars movies. Derek seemed to enjoy them (except for the prequels, obviously), which meant Stiles didn’t have to break up with him or anything.

And now, here they were, quoting Princess Leia and Han Solo. It didn’t really distract from the fact that Derek was leaving though.

Stiles couldn’t look up from his shoes. He didn’t want this to be happening. He wanted Derek to stay. He wanted Derek to be safe. But obviously none of those things were going to happen. Derek was going to Canada, and even if he didn’t die there, there was a very likely chance he’d come back and say, ‘eh’, at the end of every sentence.

Or worse.

He might come back a Toronto Maple Leaf’s fan.

“Stop it.” Derek ordered, reaching over to lift Stiles’s chin to make him look at him. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’ll probably be back before you go to Berkeley.” Stiles narrowed his eyes; he didn’t have to be a werewolf to tell Derek was lying.

“If you’re not back by the end of next week I’m calling the Prime Minister of Canada and sending out a national search party. They’ll send out their sniffer moose and polar bears, and hopefully they won’t find you dead in some ditch somewhere.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come here,” he slid his hands around Stiles’s waist and pulled him close. Stiles breathed in deeply, calming his nerves and trying to permanently burn Derek’s scent into his mind and memory. “Boyd won’t let anything happen to me, okay? And Aria won’t either.” Stiles looked over Derek’s shoulder to where Erica and Boyd were exchanging their goodbyes as well.

Erica’s face was buried in Boyd’s shoulder and her body was shaking from crying so hard. Stiles could feel his own eyes burning with the sting of held back tears, but he didn’t want to cry. It’d only make everyone feel worse.

There was an announcement over the intercom about the final call for boarding for their flight, so after a deep breath Stiles broke their hug. Before he could pull completely away Derek grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a long, hard kiss that left Stiles breathless and his heart aching.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Derek promised, though his voice was strained and raw. Stiles closed his eyes tightly, tears forcing their way free. Derek reached up, shakily wiping away the tears on Stiles’s cheek. “I love you too.”

And then he was walking away. And Stiles watched him go. He watched as Derek disappeared down the corridor and around the corner, and then watched Boyd do the same. Erica crossed over to Stiles, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his neck. “They’ll be okay,” she was nodding, convincing herself more than Stiles, “It’s Canada after all. What’s the worst thing that could happen? They get addicted to Tim Horton's?”

Stiles chuckled, holding on to Erica tightly. “Yeah. Or they adopt a beaver. Which wouldn’t be good for me, I mean, the only reason I’m with Derek is because we are strictly not into beavers.” Erica choked out a laugh and smacked Stiles on the stomach. “You wanna watch the plane take off?” He asked as he walked them over to the big row of windows lining the walls.

“Not really.” Erica sniffed, but made no attempt to move away. They stood there in silence for a long time, watching as the crew readied the plane and detached it from the loading bay. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the plane began to roll its way towards the strip where it began its take off too far away from Stiles and Erica to see. “I have to tell you something.”

Stiles tilted his head, curious as to what Erica could need to say. “What’s up Cat Woman?”

Erica leaned away from Stiles so she could look at him. There were some mixed emotions on her face, all extremely worrisome.

“I’m… pregnant.” She said, and Stiles froze. His entire brain came to a standstill. He didn’t even try to process the information at first, because if he did his brain would implode on itself. As would his heart.

“You’re… whu-?” He tried to make coherent words turn into coherent thoughts but it was futile.

“Pregnant! I am pregnant.” Erica repeated, this time clearly and with more confidence than before.

Erica was… _something_. It started with a ‘p’ and ended with a ‘regnant’. Still didn’t make any sense.

“Pregnant…?” Stiles asked, his voice small and meek. “Pregnant.” The word seemed so foreign, like it wasn’t a word at all, just complete gibberish. “Pregnant!” His voice had gotten louder and louder as he kept repeating the word. “ _Oh my fucking god you’re pregnant!_ " He screamed, and Erica was blushing and covering her face and slowly pulling further and further away from Stiles.

“Jesus Christ Stiles! Let the whole fucking world know why don’t you? I bet Boyd heard it all the way from his plane, and I haven’t even told him yet.” Erica was glancing around the waiting area, embarrassed by the attention they were getting.

“You haven’t told Boyd?” Stiles was still screaming, but he didn’t know how not to at the moment.

“No! Can you please shut up?” Erica pleaded, grabbing Stiles’s flailing arm and leading him towards the exit. Stiles kept opening his mouth to say something, _anything_ , but nothing would come out except for choked off sounds of confusion and surprise.

“How?” Stiles managed to squeeze out, except that wasn’t exactly what he had been trying for. The _how_ was pretty obvious, but still, _how_? _When_? _Oh my fucking god_.

“Well Stiles, when a boy and a girl, or a boy and a boy, or a girl and a girl, or really, any two beings who love each other _come_ together-,” she started but Stiles cut her off.

“Okay, okay. I know the how. I meant more like… was this planned?” Erica and Boyd hadn’t mentioned anything to the rest of the pack, so he wasn’t sure if this was something Erica wanted right now.

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Maybe it wasn’t really a planned thing for us, I mean, I still have a year left at Sierra for my program and Boyd still has two, but,” she shrugged again, sighing a little, “I love him. And I know that if we bring a baby into this world they’re going to be loved unconditionally. And that’s all I can really ask for.”

Stiles took a deep breath just as they exited the airport, letting the cool winter air clear his head a little. “Yeah,” he started, not even trying to fight the smile that was so big it was hurting his cheeks, “This is awesome. This is amazing.”

“I know,” Erica smirked, “Now come on. We’re going back to your place and we’re watching things blow up.”

“Avengers?” Stiles asked, and Erica nodded.

“Avengers.” She smiled, and for the moment the ache in Stiles’s heart wasn’t so unbearable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This definitely turned into a tribute chapter to Boyd and Erica... Ooops. <3


	11. Chapter 11

“Derek! My favourite nephew,” Peter greeted him, opening his arms wide for a hug. Derek glowered at him, obviously ignoring the gesture and keeping his distance. “And Boyd!” Peter exclaimed, letting his arms fall to his sides. “So glad the two of you had a safe flight.”

“Where’s Aria?” Derek asked, skipping the small talk and getting straight down to business. All he wanted to do was get to his cousin’s house and Skype with Stiles before he fell asleep. It was already past midnight in Toronto and the time difference meant it was only nine in California. Stiles was probably still awake, but Derek didn’t want to chance it.

He also missed him. A lot.

Derek and Boyd had made it through customs – the security over the border wasn’t nearly as intrusive as back in California – and now they were just waiting for a cab to bring them to Aria’s.

“She and Ian are waiting for us at her apartment downtown.” Peter answered, leading them towards the end of the taxi loading area. There was a man leaning on an unoccupied taxi, smoking a cigarette nonchalantly. “Daniel,” Peter greeted, bowing his head respectfully, “This is my nephew Derek and his Beta Boyd. Boys, this is Daniel. He’s one of Ian’s Betas and he’ll be driving us to meet with Aria and Ian.”

Daniel smiled, though it was clearly only to be polite. The corners of his mouth pinched downwards as soon as he turned away to pop open the trunk. “Just throw your luggage in the back,” he ordered before hopping into the driver’s side.

“A werewolf taxi driver,” Boyd mused, “You don’t see many of those around.” Derek fought the urge to chuckle, but couldn’t supress the amused smile.

“This is Canada Boyd, I won’t be surprised if we see a weremoose.” He and Boyd laughed idly as they packed their luggage into the trunk of the cab. After they closed the trunk and crawled into the back seats, Peter looked over his shoulder to raise an accusatory eyebrow at his nephew.

“What an excellent idea Derek. Antagonize your hosts with overused jokes about their country of origin.” Peter had a point.

“Whatever. I’m sure Americans get made fun of all the time here.” Derek tried, and Daniel snorted.

“We don’t even have to make lame jokes though,” Daniel said, pulling out of the airport’s parking lot and heading quickly towards their destination. “ _America_ is the joke.” He and Peter started chuckling and Derek and Boyd exchanged a look of irritation.

The rest of the ride was spent in an awkward, unsettled silence. Derek and Boyd were both feeling the effects of being so far away from their pack members; especially their mates. The pull to turn around and go back was strong, but they were there now so they might as well suffer through the next week or so until they handled whatever business Ian had for them.

All Derek knew so far was that there was a coven of vampires encroaching on the pack’s territory. For the most part vampires and werewolves kept their respective distance from one another. It wasn’t like in the movies; vamps and werewolves didn’t necessarily _hate_ each other, and they weren’t at war, nor had they ever been. There were certain lines that each supernatural acknowledged and didn’t cross, so it was odd that this pack was having problems with a coven. Vampires tended to be mostly political, and werewolves were sometimes used as the brawn pawns in their political games, so if anything there was a sort of allegiance between the two creatures of the night.

“Just leave your bags in the car. After we’re done here we’ll be setting you up in a hotel just down the road.” Peter informed them as they pulled up to Aria’s apartment building. Derek frowned.

“We aren’t staying with Aria this time?” Last time he’d visited he crashed in Aria’s spare room; it had been nice to spend time with one of his only remaining relatives. She actually reminded Derek a little bit of Stiles; she was thoughtful, kind of an asshole when she wanted to be, and really, really passionate. She understood Derek wasn’t much of a talker, so instead of trying to get him to open up she left him alone. And Derek really appreciated that.

“Ian doesn’t feel comfortable allowing both you and Boyd to stay with Aria.” Peter explained as he got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him. Derek and Boyd followed suit, and as soon as they were out of the car Daniel drove away. “He’ll park the car and wait for us to finish our business here. Now, come on you two we don’t have all day.”

Peter led them into the lobby of the building, through to the elevators, and up to the ninth floor. He knocked on the door of Aria’s apartment and moments later it swung open to reveal Derek’s cousin.

“Derek!” Aria greeted him cheerfully as soon as the door opened, startling him by pulling him into a warm hug. As soon as he returned the hug she pulled away and grabbed a hold of Boyd. “And you must be Boyd!”

Boyd reluctantly accepted her gesture, flashing a cautious glance at Derek. Derek nodded; Aria may not be in their pack but she was still family. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He sounded a little unsure still, but at least he was making an effort.

She pulled away, smiling brightly at the both of them. “The pleasure’s all mine! Come inside, both of you! Make yourselves comfortable. Ian will be right out; he’s just dealing with something in the other room.” Derek could hear Ian’s voice low and short; whoever he was talking to he didn’t sound happy, which wasn’t exactly reassuring for Derek.

“So Aria,” Derek started, attempting to make small talk, “What’s new?” The last time he’d seen her had been over a year ago, around the time Peter moved out here to join Ian’s pack. He’d only stayed a couple days to make sure that everything with his uncle was settled; he didn’t want Peter in his pack, but he also didn’t want him dead in a ditch somewhere like most Omegas ended up, so he needed to be certain this pack would be the right fit for him.

Luckily Peter passed the initial commencement into the pack, and had been an upstanding member since. Hard to believe, considering his uncle’s past, but he wasn’t going to worry himself over what Peter might have or might not have told Ian. As long as it kept him away from Lydia and the rest of his pack, Derek was more than happy to play ignorant to Peter’s past crimes.

Aria sighed, leading them into the living room and taking her place at the arm chair in the corner, right next to her bookcase. “Where to start?” She asked, leaning on one of the arm rests and tapping a finger thoughtfully to her chin. “You remember Sebastian, right?” Derek nodded; Seb was one of the human members of their pack. “Well he took Ian up on his offer for the bite, so he’s a wolf now.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Seriously? I thought he was against it.”

As Derek recalled, Seb’s exact words had been, “Yesterday I thought the only things higher on the food chain were sharks and everything in Australia, today I’m running with a pack of werewolves with anger issues and the inclination towards bloodlust. It’s nice to retain my humanity; makes it easier to hold on to the little sanity I have left.”

Aria shook her head, frowning a little. “Ever since we lost Karen, the humans in our pack haven’t been feeling as safe as they used to.” Her demeanor grew sad as she recalled her lost pack member; Derek remembered her as well. She’d been nice enough, and human. Her death was news to Derek.

“You lost Karen?” Derek asked, about to offer his condolences when a door down the hall opened, and in walked Ian.

“We didn’t just lose her, she was murdered.” Ian growled, a furious snarl distorting his features. The air in the room thickened with the scent of anger, and for a moment Derek thought the other Alpha was about to shift.

Aria stood quickly from her seat and crossed the room, placing her hand delicately on Ian’s shoulder. “Breathe,” She whispered, her voice a soothing, soft tone. All at once Ian visibly relaxed. He raised his own hand to place over top of hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

After a long moment he turned to fix Derek with a hard gaze. “I’m glad you made it.” He nodded his thanks and Derek nodded back respectively. “The vampire coven has been growing increasingly… aggressive.” He motioned for Boyd and Derek to sit down on the couch, while he took a seat in Aria’s armchair.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” She announced, and then left the room after a small smile in Ian’s direction. Peter took a seat on the coffee table; probably not the most comfortable place to sit, but at least he knew well enough not to sit down on the couch next to either Boyd or Derek.

“We’re here to offer whatever assistance we can give,” Derek started, looking over at Boyd to see a determined set in his jaw. “But before we can do anything, we need to know what we’re dealing with, and how this all started.”

Ian was silent for a minute, contemplative as he sat there across the room from them. He stared at Derek, and Derek refused to look away. Finally Ian’s shoulders relaxed and a small smile rose to his lips. “Fair enough. I trust you’ll be discreet.” He raised a questioning eyebrow and Derek nodded. He understood the necessity of not showing weakness in front of another werewolf, let alone another Alpha. Their business was their own; so long as their alliance held.

“You have my word.” Derek agreed, and beside him Boyd solemnly nodded his own affirmation.

“Good,” Ian leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows against his knees, “This all started when one of my Betas caught the scent of one of their vampires at a local club. She followed it into the bathroom where she found the vamp feeding on a human in one of the stalls. She interrupted, and after the vamp stopped feeding and mesmerized the human into forgetting the experience, my Beta made it known that the region was already an established werewolf territory.”

“Did the vampire not leave after that?” Derek asked, still a little shocked that vampires were staying long enough in one place to cause such a disturbance.

“It did, and then it came back with its coven. There are five known members living within the city,” His voice strained at that, clearly unhappy that his home had been violated and intruded so easily. “Two of them cornered and killed Karen in cold blood. Peter and I managed to capture one, and Seb and Joyce killed the other. So far all we’ve gotten out of the vamp is that the coven he belongs to is a branch of a much larger whole. Some anti-human group that call themselves Abyssus.”

“Anti-human?” Derek had heard of certain supernaturals harbouring hatred towards humanity, but he’d never actually run in to any.

“Indeed. But the coven we’re dealing with is considered neo-Nazis, even to Abyssus.” Ian sounded irritated and angry, his eyes flickering a deep crimson before he settled himself. Aria returned, carrying the kettle and a few mugs.

“They think vampires are the most powerful beings in existence,” Aria added, rolling her eyes, "Above all creatures, including any supernatural." Boyd smirked, shaking his head.

“They’ve obviously never faced Erica when she’s on her period during a full moon,” He muttered and Derek chuckled. He was pretty sure Erica could kill an entire colony of vampires on those nights when the moon is full and her cramps made her hostile towards anything that breathes.

Ian tilted his head, not entirely understanding the joke but appreciating the context of it with a small smile. “Yes, well, perhaps Erica should be here too then.” Boyd grew quietly quickly; politely nodding while he held himself back from growling.

He’d never allow Erica to put herself in harm’s way, probably even if it was Derek who was asking.

“Well you have us,” Derek continued so that Boyd’s silence didn’t grow to be offensive, “As soon as we’re settled in we’ll be at your disposal.” He shifted towards the edge of the couch, readying himself to stand. He waited for Ian to stand first; it was only polite.

Ian got to his feet and Derek followed suit, then Boyd shortly after. “You have my thanks,” Ian said as he led them towards the front door, “I’ll contact you tomorrow. We can go over the rest then, and I can fill you in on what we have planned for our unwelcomed guests to the city.”

“You’re not going to stay for tea?” Aria asked over Ian’s shoulder, and Derek felt sorry for leaving before he could spend a little more time with his cousin. But he needed to get to the hotel room and rest.

And also call Stiles.

Ian waved her away. “There’ll be time for tea tomorrow,” He walked them to the door and opened it for them, ushering them out into the hallway, “They need all the rest they can get. It’s a long road ahead for all of us.” He gave them a meaningful look before shutting the door quietly behind them.

Peter led them back down to the lobby and to the parking lot outside where Daniel was leaned up against the cab. “Ready to go to the hotel?” He asked, sounding tired and bored.

“Yes we are,” Peter answered for them, “I believe my nephew is anxious to send word back to his pack that all is well.” And for once Peter understood Derek, and the meaning of what it is to be a part of a pack. Caring about each other; needing reassurance that each pack member is safe.

As soon as he got to the hotel room he’d call Stiles and feel infinitely better about everything.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

Stiles stared at his computer screen with tired, bloodshot eyes; reading his way through an online database full of potentially useless information about vampires. He kept checking his watch, feeling like the seconds were dragging by. It was midnight and Derek’s plane had landed over three hours ago.

He should’ve checked in by now.

_Why hadn’t he checked in yet?_

Stiles’s imagination was alight with every single doomed possibility; the plane crashed, Derek and Boyd dead upon impact. Or Peter had lied to them to get them across the border so that he could kill Derek and steal back his Alpha mojo. Or the vampires they’re supposed to be tracking down tracked _them_ down instead, and now they’re having the blood sucked out of them until they’re drained of all their bodily fluids.

Or maybe, y’know, Derek just hadn’t checked in yet for a perfectly innocent and understandable reason.

In any case Stiles needed to preoccupy himself, otherwise he would worry himself into an existential coma. Scouring through endless information seemed to do the trick.

Stiles sighed, scrolling further down on the page and rubbing at his eyes to try and stay awake and alleviate the throbbing pain beginning behind his eyelids. Suddenly he heard his Skype go off and he spazzed in his chair, almost falling over in his flailing to switch windows.

He clicked hard on his mouse to switch over and accept the incoming call from Derek. His screen came to life with the brightness of Derek and where ever he was on his laptop.

Seeing Derek’s face right there, knowing that there was still approximately two thousand, five hundred, and thirty two miles separating them (Stiles had google mapped it) made the ache in his chest throb. He wanted Derek to be right there next to him, curled up in his bed with his arm wrapped around his waist, his back pressed up close against Derek’s chest.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Stiles greeted as he continued to rub at his legitimately sore eyes. He could hear Derek’s soft chuckle and felt his heart skip a beat. God he missed Derek; and he’d only been gone for eight hours.

“You look tired,” Derek acknowledged, “I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, we had to settle a few things before I was able to sit down and pull out my laptop.” Derek shifted, his microphone bursting with static at the movement.

“It’s all good, ‘m not even tired.” Stiles tried, but a yawn overtook him and made Derek chuckle.

“Clearly.” He smiled, shaking his head in fond amusement. “Should I let you go?”

“Never.” Stiles reacted quickly, shaking his head vehemently. After realizing how sharp his reply had been, and the goofy grin that rose to Derek’s lips, Stiles cleared his throat. He could feel his cheeks burning. “I mean, you haven’t even told me about the flight, or Peter, or Aria.” Stiles paused, tapping his fingers anxiously against his desk. “Have you run into any vampires yet?”

Derek sighed and shook his head. "Peter's Peter. The flight was long. I barely spoke to Aria. On the bright side we haven't come across any vamps." He sighed again, and all Stiles wanted to do was comfort him. "This is going to be a long week."

"I know." Stiles agreed, resting back in his chair. "Is there anything I can do to make all of this happen quicker? I want you and Boyd home as soon as possible." Boyd needed to be here for Erica, and Derek needed to be here because Stiles was a worrier and he was going to worry himself into a panic attack soon.

Which would not be good.

Derek scoffed. "Unless you follow the vampires on Twitter and you can tell me where they are and how to kill them, I don't think there's much you can do on your end." Derek already sounded frustrated.

"Doesn't mean I can't try." He opened up his internet browser and pulled up Google, working his Stiles Stilinski magic on the search engine. In another life he totally could've worked for the Google company; Google was his bitch, basically.

"Well while you do whatever you're doing right now, I'm going to unpack." He stood and walked out of his camera's view, which at least meant Stiles wouldn't be as distracted. He could focus on finding reliable sources instead of drooling over how ridiculously hot his boyfriend was.

For the most part it was all pretty standard stuff; garlic, no reflection, stake through the heart, etc., but about twenty minutes into the search Stiles fumbled across an article titled, _14 bizarre real-life ways people have tried to kill vampires_. He shrugged to himself, figuring that the information, no matter how ridiculous it may be, could hold some profound knowledge about how to kill a vampire.

Quickly his optimism dissolved.

At first the article started off relatively viable – the first method was to shove a brick into the vampires head so far that it broke the jaw and crushed the spinal cord. This was apparently attempted in Venice, and was labelled the _Super Mario_ , which Stiles appreciated.

It all sorta went downhill from there.

Stiles’s favourite one was the one where you had to cut off the vampire’s head and bury the head behind the vampire’s butt.

“Okay, that’s just ridiculous.” Derek chuckled, and Stiles realized Derek was back in his seat and on Stiles's screen.

"Yeah, maybe whoever unearthed that skeleton just found the burial sight of some arrogant dude with his head up his ass." Stiles paused, smirking. "So, like maybe one of Peter's ancestors."

Derek gave him a dry look. "You realize that Peter's ancestors are my ancestors too, right?" Stiles smiled sweetly, trying his best to look innocently ignorant of that fact.

"Are you sure he wasn't adopted?" As far as Stiles could tell, Peter wasn't one of your run of the mill Hales. Stiles had only seen one picture of Derek and his family, but clearly over eighty percent of them had the trademark dark hair and eyes. Derek's green eyes and Peter's blue ones were some of the only exceptions, and Peter's light brown hair was still a contrast to the dark black hair usually inherited within the Hale family bloodline.

Derek looked contemplative. "Actually, I don't know." Derek frowned, obviously flirting with the idea that his uncle might not actually be blood-related. He didn't look too heartbroken about it. "Anyways, I should let you sleep."

Stiles pouted, sinking lower in his chair. He was tired – it was a trial just to keep his eyes open, and his head had started to ache. "I'm not ready to say goodbye yet," Stiles mumbled, blinking hard in an attempt to wake himself up a little. "Just ten more minutes."

Derek breathed out a small sigh, shaking his head. "Fine. Tell me about your day after I got on my flight." Stiles smiled sleepily, closing his eyes and resting his chin on his desk.

"I spent the day with Erica." He spoke softly, beginning to feel the effects of sleep deprivation taking over.

"What'd you two do?" Derek asked, and then added, "Maybe you should crawl into bed, Stiles." Stiles nodded, surprisingly compliant in his drowsy state. He picked his laptop off the desk and carried it over with him to his bed. He slid under the covers and snuggled into his pillows; resting his laptop by his head as he slowly lulled to sleep.

“We were gonna watch Avengers but we went and got ice cream instead, because Erica said she was craving Marble Slab,” Stiles muttered, his eyes shut. “And then we,” He yawned, his entire body stretching out, “We went to her first appointment.” The rest of the world blurred out then, overtaken by the unconscious state of sleep.

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice sounded strained, which was the only reason Stiles managed to claw himself awake once more. “What appointment?”

Stiles frowned, completely confused. “What appointment?”

Derek groaned softly. “That’s what I’m asking Stiles. What appointment did you go to with Erica?” It took Stiles a moment to remember what he’d said before drifting off.

“ _Oh_ ,” He started, drawing the word out as slowly as his brain was processing things. “Y’know. The first appointment. The one where the doc gets the scoop about health history and stuff, like when your partner and you had sex so they can determine the due date, and then schedules you for an ultrasound.”

All in all it had been a good experience. Erica’s doctor mistook Stiles for the daddy, which amused Erica and flustered Stiles.

“Ultrasound?” Derek asked, and he sounded weird. Stiles couldn’t interpret the tone in his sleep-depraved state.

“Yes, ultrasound. Why do you keep making me repeat myself?” Stiles grumbled, burying his face in his pillow. There was a long silence then, which allowed Stiles to slip back under.

“Stiles!” Derek barked, and all at once Stiles was awake. He shot straight up, flailing and knocking his laptop onto the ground. He scooped it back up, opening the screen up so he could look at Derek’s face. He looked pale. “Is Erica pregnant?”

Stiles blinked. And then his heart was in his throat. “Pregnant? What? No. No way. She’s not…” Stiles paused, internally crucifying himself for breaking his promise to Erica not to tell anyone. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d already more than alluded to the fact that Erica was pregnant. “Alright, you caught me.” Stiles took a deep breath, hoping Derek couldn’t hear his heart beat fluctuating over the crappy laptop mic. “I’m pregnant.”

Derek’s eyebrow shot up. “ _You’re_ pregnant?” Stiles nodded, hiding his mouth under his covers to hide the ridiculously dorky smile on his face.

“Yeah,” Stiles tried to keep the smile out of his voice. “I didn’t want to break it to you while we were separated by countries, but you’re gonna be a dad.” Derek pursed his lips, his eyebrow raising even higher.

“I didn’t realize you had ovaries. Or a uterus. Or a vagina, for that matter.” Derek teased and Stiles lifted his head up from the bed.

“Oh my god, you actually listened in health class?” Stiles asked, all mock astonishment. Derek rolled his eyes.

“No, I listened to you and Lydia rave and rant at Scott about where babies come from when he made an innocent joke about storks.” Derek was shaking his head, obviously unimpressed by Stiles’s and Lydia’s enthusiasm on the subject.

“It was a pretty funny joke,” Stiles drawled, letting his eyes slide closed.

“Speaking of storks, Stiles,” Derek started, his voice the only thing keeping Stiles from passing out, “You never answered my question.”

“What question?” Stiles asked, pretending to drift off again.

“Is Erica pregnant?” Stiles peeked one eye open to look at the stern stare directed at him. “If she’s pregnant I’m sending Boyd home tomorrow on the earliest flight I can book.”

“No, no, no. He’ll know something’s up, and Erica wants to be the one to tell him.” Stiles paused, his eyes widening with the horrific realization that Boyd could be listening in on their conversation. “Is he there? Is he listening? Can he hear us?”

Derek looked over his shoulder to a door in the background. “Nah. He’s taking a shower.” He turned back to Stiles, a tentative smile breaking his earlier seriousness. “So she’s…?”

Stiles smiled broadly, unable to hold it back any longer. “Yep. Her egg hath been fertilized!” Stiles announced dramatically, swishing his hand up in the air to add a little flair. Derek chuckled lightly, his entire face softening.

“That’s amazing.” He sounded genuinely happy, which made Stiles smile.

“I know!” Stiles agreed, nodding enthusiastically. “But you have to promise to at least keep Boyd there with you for a few more days so he doesn’t get suspicious. And… I think Erica needs a couple days to mentally prepare herself to tell him.”

It took a moment but finally Derek gave a final nod. “Fine. But he’s coming home on Monday.” Derek left no room for argument, swiftly redirecting Stiles’s attention by slipping off his shirt. “So, how far along is she?”

Stiles licked his lips, staring at Derek’s bare chest for a long moment before even realizing Derek had said anything. “Sorry, what?” He asked, snapping out of his too-much-sexy induced haze. Derek chuckled, his chest and stomach tensing with the movement, further diverting Stiles.

“How far along is she?” He asked again, a feigned innocent expression on his face. Stiles narrowed his eyes; Derek didn’t play fair at all.

“Seven weeks. She’ll go in for another appointment in a month or so, for the dating ultrasound, which’ll help them determine a more accurate birth date.” Stiles explained, reciting what the doctor had told them earlier that day.

“Considering Boyd and her have more sex than a couple of rabbits in heat, that’s probably a good idea.” Derek nodded solemnly to himself. Stiles was still too entranced by Derek’s shirtlessness to care about the conversation anymore.

“Alright, enough about their sex life,” He bit at his lower lip, fighting the urge to bring up their own sex life instead. Or the lack thereof, at the moment, considering they couldn’t touch each other. Stiles could feel up the screen, sure, but it just wasn’t the same. The screen didn’t have abs or stubble, or a heartbeat or flesh… so…

“Boyd just finished up in the shower, so that’s probably a good idea.” Derek sighed, and then suddenly Derek was lifting his laptop and carrying it around the room with him. The camera had a nice angle of Derek’s crotch so Stiles wasn’t about to complain. “Anyways, I should let you sleep.”

Stiles stared up at his ceiling, already feeling a heavy emptiness settling on his chest. “Can we just…” He trailed off, not wanting to sound clingy, but fuck, he didn’t want to say good night or good bye yet. He rolled over to look at Derek, who had settled into his own bed. “Can we stay on Skype?” He asked hopefully, giving Derek one of his best puppy dog looks.

Derek stared for a moment, but gradually his features softened into a smile that left Stiles’s heart aching. “Yeah, no worries.” Derek pulled his covers over him, knocking the laptop off center for a moment before readjusting it at a safe distance next to his head. “Good night Stiles.” He said, which was Stiles’s cue to close his eyes and finally get some uninterrupted sleep.

“Sweet dreams,” He whispered back, and he fell asleep with his laptop nestled in right next to his shoulder.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“There she is,” Daniel said under his breath, quiet enough that only Derek would be able to hear it. He casually looked over his shoulder, scanning the front entrance of the club. The neon lights and flashing beams were causing his head to ache and his vision to blur, but he had a job to do. The female vampire – a feisty redheaded, pale thing – had just been permitted inside the club.

They’d tracked her movement for two days, researching the leftover crime scenes they knew were vamp attacks, and cross-referencing them with the more populated spots for pick-ups. The main thing all the victims had in common was that they were all club-goers and partiers; living in the scene was a lifestyle for them, which apparently resulted in an end to their life.

Finding this vamp hadn’t taken too long, but Derek had been hoping it would’ve been easier. The entire time they searched they used up most of their manpower – Ian’s pack had thirteen in it altogether, which was an impressive number. Only eight of them were wolves, and the humans were either children or had no experience in any sort of combat. Even with all the help from the wolves and humans combined, it had still proven difficult to narrow down the suspects.

“How do you want to do this?” Daniel asked, waiting for Derek’s instructions. Ian had made it clear that while Derek was working with them, he was still an Alpha and of a higher experience and ability. He commanded almost as much authority as Ian, which meant Daniel was under his direction.

“She’ll know we’re here soon enough.” Derek responded, and almost immediately her eyes turned on them. A sick smile crept onto her lips, twisting them into a creepily unsettling smile. “Be ready.” Derek ordered and Daniel nodded.

The vampire approached their table, her eyes fixed on Derek. “Hello there,” She purred, throwing her arms around Derek’s shoulder and lifting herself up into his lap. His entire body instinctively went rigid, and he fought the overwhelming urge to stake the bitch right there in the middle of the club. “Oh don’t be like that, sweetie.” She reached over, cupping his chin in her hand.

He jerked away from her touch, letting his eyes burn red as a warning. “What’s your name?” He asked, his arms sliding around her waist and restraining her. She smiled devilishly, leaning into his confining hold like it was some erotic embrace.

“Do you want my Christian name?” She asked, quirking her eyebrows suggestively.

Derek’s lips pulled into a tight smile. “I want a name, I don’t care if it’s the one you were born with or not.”

She sighed, leaning against his chest and placing her hand on his shoulder. “Use your imagination, darling. If you need something to scream out while I’m fucking you in the bathroom, I suppose Vixen is a suitable enough label.”

Derek looked over at Daniel, giving him a quick nod to signal for the younger wolf to call for Aria and Boyd. “Sorry, the only place we’ll be going is back to this territory’s Alpha, where you’ll either talk or have your head bitten off.”

Suddenly the vampire, Vixen, twisted in Derek’s lap, easily freeing herself from his arms. She stood beyond his reach, her sick smile returning. “Leave the biting to me.” She winked and then disappeared entirely.

Derek swore under his breath, quickly trying to pick out Vixen’s scent before it mixed in with the human crowd’s. He followed it deeper into the club, through the back door, and out into an alleyway. There was a blur of footprints in the snow leading off to his left, but they abruptly stopped at the edge of the alley.

“Looking for me?” It was her voice, but when he turned to confront her she was nowhere in sight. “I suppose I should be flattered.” She started, her voice a low hum. “Sending the only capable werewolf after me instead of Bennet.”

“Not the _only_ capable werewolf,” Derek heard behind him, and as he turned he heard a large cracking noise and a body slump to the ground. Boyd stood over Vixen’s body, a metal baseball bat raised over his shoulder and ready to take another swing.

“You;ve been taking pointers from Stiles?” Derek asked and Boyd shrugged.

“It was the first thing I found.” He dropped the bat, leaning down to grab Vixen’s body.

Vixen acted before Derek could react.

Suddenly Boyd was the one on the ground, a splatter of blood by his head seeping into the otherwise untarnished snow. Derek lunged but the vampire was quicker, sweeping his legs and sending him tumbling into the wall.

She pounced, pinning him against it like a ragdoll. “I had such high hopes for you.” She pouted, and all at once her prominent features were reduced to that of a grousing child. He fought against her, struggling against her iron grip. Her strength was fading fast; all he needed to do was cripple her somehow and he’d get the upper hand.

Before he could do anything though, there was a movement to his right and something soared through the air at them. It hit Vixen directly, and her entire body slumped before him. He dropped her to the ground and ran to Boyd’s side, examining the extent of the damage before picking up his broad shoulders and placing Boyd’s head in his lap to get a better view of whatever head injury caused him to bleed out so severely.

Boyd blinked up at him, much to Derek’s relief. “Did you get her?” He asked, and Derek nodded. He breathed out slowly, focusing on relaxing his tense heartbeat. The wound looked a lot worse than it actually was, thankfully.

“Yeah, we got her.” He paused, patting Boyd on the shoulder. “Can you get up?” Boyd nodded, sitting up and rising to his feet with the help of Aria. Daniel had Vixen slung over his shoulder, standing by and waiting for the three of them to regroup with him. “Is she dead?” Derek hoped she was dead.

“No, just knocked out.” Daniel answered. Derek supposed it was probably for the best; alive she could give them answers that might help them resolve this a little quicker, but then again, dead meant she could never harm Boyd or anyone else ever again.

Derek turned to Boyd, giving him a heavy look. “You’re going home tomorrow, first thing.” Boyd opened his mouth to argue but Derek wasn’t going to let Boyd throw himself into the line of fire like that again anytime soon. He had Erica and a baby to worry about. Derek wasn’t going to let this escalate any further. “I already booked the flight. As soon as we get back to the hotel you’re packing your bags.”

Boyd’s jaw locked into place, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t speak a single syllable all night, not even after they delivered Vixen to Ian at his warehouse, or after they’d arrived back at the hotel.

In the morning Boyd was gone, the only thing left behind was a note that simply read:

_Don’t get yourself killed. – B_

Derek smirked, tucking the note away in his pocket before retrieving his phone from the charger in the bathroom.

Boyd had Erica and a baby to get back to, and a pack. Derek had Stiles and a pack to get back to. So no, he wasn’t going to get himself killed. Because he had a lot more to live for than he could’ve ever hoped for.


	12. Chapter 12

“Tell me what I want to know and maybe I won’t kill you.” Peter loomed over the vampire, his bright blue eyes a warning that he’d follow through with his threat. He’d killed before and he’d kill again.

Derek was watching Peter’s progress from the doorway, a little surprised that Ian trusted Peter enough to be the interrogator. But, then again, it wasn’t a real surprise that Peter would be the one in charge of torturing the information out of the vampire. His uncle had a twisted sense of entertainment; inflicting pain and misery being one of his many sick indulgences.

The vampire seemed to be unaffected so far; staring at the wall with pursed lips and dead eyes. He wasn’t going to talk anytime soon. It was obvious that they needed something more to crack him, more than just his uncle’s brutal tactics and threats.

“Peter,” Ian interrupted right as Peter jabbed a knife through the vampire’s stomach. “That’s enough.” They’d been at it for two days now, trying to discern the location of the rest of the vampire coven. They’d lost Vixen - she'd escaped somehow before they could confine her in Ian's containment facility - but the other team managed to capture the other vampire, the one Vixen had called Bennet. Both Bennet and the vampire they still held in their custody from before weren’t saying a single word.

It was getting frustrating; the atmosphere of the room grew more heated with each moment that passed by. Derek could sense the other Alpha’s fury, which agitated Derek’s wolf. It didn’t help that Derek was in this alone now; since Boyd had left he’d felt a heavy sense of loneliness and wariness. He didn’t have anyone to really watch his back other than Aria but he knew that when it came down to it, she’d have to side with her pack.

Derek needed this to be resolved soon.

“I’m giving you one last chance,” Ian continued, approaching the vampire. The Alpha held a very calm exterior, but there was something in his tone of voice that had Derek’s nerves on edge. “Tell me where the others are and you’ll be spared as long as you promise never to return to this territory again.”

The vampire didn’t even look at him. Instead Bennet spat in Ian’s direction, the final act of disrespect and utter disregard for Ian’s authority. Suddenly Ian lunged at the vampire, ripping his head off with one clean swipe of his claws. Blood gushed from the stump that was the vampire’s mutilated neck, spraying over Peter’s face and Ian’s chest. It pooled on the floor underneath the limp, lifeless body.

“And now I know how to kill a vampire.” Derek mused to himself, making a mental note to tell Stiles about Ian’s methods later. Ian wiped his hand off on Peter’s shirt, eliciting an irritated glare from him.

“Dispose of his body,” Ian ordered, and Peter reluctantly removed the corpse from where it was being propped up on the chair by the binds they’d used to keep the vampire secure. As he was dragging it away Ian picked up Bennet’s head and carried it over to Derek. “I’m running low on patience,” He warned, and he tossed it at Derek, “Put this somewhere easy for the humans to find. Send the remaining vampires a message.”

“You’re going to piss them off,” Derek stated and Ian tilted his head, nodding a little.

“Good.” He brushed by Derek and motioned for him to follow. “If we can’t get to them we’ll have to draw them to us.” As far as plans went it wasn’t original – if Stiles was there he’d probably come up with some elaborate plan that had too many intricate details, and then Lydia would hammer it all out into perfection, and then the pack would perform it flawlessly.

Okay, not flawlessly (nothing ever quite went as planned, but they always pulled through and things _usually_ worked out in the end), but Derek was really missing his pack and after seeing how uncoordinated Ian’s pack was, Derek’s pack looked like experienced war veterans. And sure, Derek was a little biased, but his pack was still a lot more kick ass than Ian’s. Aria being the exception.

“Are you sure your pack can handle that?” They’d barely managed to capture the vampires – but maybe being on the defensive would give them an advantage. This _was_ their territory after all; they knew the lay of the land, had access to local resources and knowledge that the coven might not be aware of, and they had more to fight for. This was their home and they were going to defend it with all they had.

Ian gave Derek a perturbed sideways glance. Obviously he didn’t appreciate having his pack’s abilities brought into question. “I have no doubt my pack can handle themselves,” He growled, his eyes growing dark. He paused, turning to face Derek in the cramped hallway they’d been walking down, forcing Derek to stop as well. “I don’t think I ever thanked you for coming here to help us,” He held out his hand, which Derek firmly shook, “I do appreciate all that you’ve done, but I’d appreciate it even more if you didn’t try to undermine me or my pack.”

Derek tried to break the handshake but Ian held onto his hand tightly. “I’m not trying to undermine you,” He started, squeezing Ian’s hand back to reciprocate the challenge, “I’m trying to ensure we _all_ get out of this alive. And from what I’ve seen your pack hasn’t exactly been up to facing a coven of pissed off vampires.”

Ian growled threateningly. “We’ve already killed two, and we still have one in our custody.”

“And there are two more vampires out there; possibly more, and all of them are going to attack at once.” Derek didn’t like having unknown elements; not knowing what they were going up against could get them all killed.

Ian was silent for a moment, glaring at Derek. “We’ll handle it. You’re either with us or against us.” He started walking away, not waiting for Derek to respond. The other man was impatient and the only way Derek was going to keep things civil was to counteract the other man’s attitude with as much patience as he could muster.

He didn’t linger behind in the warehouse; he took the decapitated head and wrapped it up in a few garbage bags to somewhat smother the scent and keep the blood from staining the seats in Aria’s car, which she’d lent to him for the time being. He drove back into the city, stopping only once to drop the head off as discreetly as possible near one of the trails in a nearby park. He hoped it wouldn’t be a kid that found it; it was macabre and terrible, but he couldn’t go against Ian’s wishes, especially since they hadn’t ended things well.

He made his way to Aria’s apartment, where he now stayed instead of the hotel. After a few days alone in there without Boyd to keep him company he was starting to seriously contemplate ditching Canada altogether, but Aria had convinced him to stay.

As soon as he opened up the apartment door he could smell freshly baked cookies. His mouth watered and he let his nose lead him into the kitchen where his cousin was taking a tray of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven. “Those smell delicious.”

She smiled, taking a deep breath with her eyes closed. “Ahh,” She sighed, setting the tray on the counter top. “I heard about your argument with Ian, thought you might need a pick-me-up.” She scooped one of them off, tossing it at Derek who caught it easily but regretted everything as soon as the burning hot cookie landed in his hands.

“Hot!” He exclaimed, shoving it into his mouth like the genius he was. It burned his tongue and the insides of his cheeks, but his mouth regenerated quickly. He ate it as swiftly as he could, giving Aria a perturbed look.

She shrugged. “That was my bad.” She admitted, leaving the cookies to cool before testing one out for herself. “Anyways, I know Ian’s been… annoyingly aggressive lately, but he’s just frustrated. He wants the vampires gone.”

Derek gave her an unimpressed look. “We _all_ want the vampires gone.”

She led him into the living room, directing him to the couch while she sat down in her chair. “You’ve been extra broody since Boyd left,” She started, pausing for a moment to allow Derek to take the initiative and explain himself. He didn’t. She sighed. “Are you feeling homesick? Do you feel uncomfortable staying here alone Der? Because I’d understand.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’m fine.” He lied; because yes, he was feeling homesick and yes, he knew Ian appreciated his help but Derek’s presence was only barely tolerated at the moment. He wanted to go home and be with Stiles and Erica and Boyd, and the rest of his pack. But he knew he couldn’t. Not yet.

Aria tilted her head at him, one eyebrow quirked in question. “That’s a load of bullshit.” She shifted in her chair, lazily throwing one of her arms over the back of it as she sank deeper into it. “Come on Der, we both know you’re lying so spit it out. You want to leave.”

Derek was silent for a moment, debating on whether or not his cousin would take offense if he really did tell the truth. “It’s complicated.” He replied and she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Derek sighed. “Fine. I want to go home. I want to be with my pack mates so that I can be there for Erica’s first ultrasound. I want to see all of them off when they go back to school.” He paused, giving his cousin an apologetic look. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be here to help you guys out.”

Aria’s eyes narrowed and she sat up straighter, fixing Derek with a hard look. “There’s more to it than that. I get that you miss your pack mates, but when you were here last time you weren’t as bad as this. Something happened.” She paused, the gears grinding in her head as she started to figure it out. Her eyes widened with the realization. “You found your mate!”

Derek didn’t try to deny it; he couldn’t even if he tried. The stupidly silly grin that immediately overtook his lips told his cousin everything. “Stiles.” Stiles had been increasingly anxious about Derek staying in Toronto without Boyd or any back-up, and during their last Skype call they hadn’t exactly ended things on the best of notes.

“Stiles?” Aria asked, a curious smile at the abnormality of the name.

Derek chuckled. “Yeah, Stiles. It’s just a nickname; he doesn’t like people knowing his first name, he thinks it’s too weird.”

“Weirder than _Stiles_?” She asked teasingly. Derek nodded.

“Trust me. It is.” When Derek had stumbled across some old school files during one of the pack’s overnight break-ins (a witch they were tracking had decided to make the school her own personal hideout – Beacon Hills High was probably one of the weirdest, least safe places ever but somehow still managed not to get shut down for some unknown reason, even though there had been a number of murders there) he found Stiles’s record; although, he hadn’t realized it was Stiles’s at first. The name on the file was like a button mash. It was so peculiar he’d tried to say it a few times before he’d given up on it entirely. After flipping through a few of the pages he found _Stiles_ written across the top of the papers and made the connection then.

To this day, and as far as Derek knew, Stiles still hadn’t ever talked about his name, nor had he shared it with any of the pack; Derek included. He knew it might take a while before Stiles could talk about it, especially if the reason behind it was because of his mother. If Stiles’s reaction to his dad getting married to Melissa was any indication of where Stiles was at with his mom’s death, clearly he still had some things to work through.

“Tell me about him.” Aria said firmly; so he did.

Derek told her how they met, how at first they borderline hated each other but over the years how it grew into respect and now love. Derek always knew that Stiles was his mate, but maybe he didn’t necessarily ever believe he deserved to try and be happy with Stiles.

He told her about how clumsy and uncoordinated he was; how big his heart is. How loyalty is as easy as breathing for him. How, even though they argue and challenge one another, it brings them closer and makes the pack stronger as a whole. Stiles doesn’t take Derek’s shit, and neither does Derek take Stiles’s. They set each other straight.

“In a really, really gay way though, am I right?” Aria teased, laughing at her own joke for an entire minute before letting Derek continue.

“When I’m with him I feel like I’m home, y’know?” There was so much more to it than that, but anyone who’d found their mate just _knew_. They understood that what they felt couldn’t be put into actual words, but _home_ was the closest they would ever get.

Aria scoffed.

“I don’t know, but it sounds nice.” She sighed, picking idly at a loose thread on the chair arm. Derek frowned in confusion.

“Aren’t you and Ian…?” He trailed off, unsure if he should even finish that thought. Aria burst out laughing, shaking her head fervently.

“Absolutely not. Why would you even think that?” She asked, still laughing. Derek shrugged.

“I don’t know, I just assumed. You two seem pretty close.” Derek hadn’t really paid too close attention to his cousin’s relationship with her Alpha, only enough to make sure she was happy and looked after. Clearly Ian was a good Alpha; aside from recent events his pack seemed to be steadily growing and very healthy.

“You’re close with all your pack mates, right?” She asked, and Derek admitted that he made sure to keep his relationships strong with all of his wolves and humans. “It’s an Alpha’s job to be there for their pack members. Ian’s my Alpha. And that’s it.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head again. “Dude, he’s like three times my age what are you thinking?”

“I seem to recall you saying you’d like to lick Benedict Cumberbatch’s face.” Derek replied, pointing out the flaw in her reasoning for not being attracted to her Alpha.

“Benny’s barely even twice my age Der, totally within my age limit. Also he’s perfect so he’s always the exception.” She winked at him and he just shook his head. “Anyways, don’t change the subject. Tell me more.”

Derek shrugged; he’d already told her about Stiles, there really wasn’t much more for him to say. How could he explain something that was as abstract as what he felt for his mate? “I don’t know what else there is.” He replied, and Aria’s eyebrow rose in skepticism.

“Well for starters you can tell me why you have a pickle up your ass.” She crossed her arms, pursing her lips.

“Uhh,” Derek frowned, “a _pickle_ up my ass?” He was still trying to get over the fact that she’d even used the word pickle in an actual real life sentence.

She nodded. “Yes. A pickle. Up your ass.”

Derek sighed, unable to argue with his cousin. She was stubborn when she wanted to be, so obviously there was no way she was going to drop it. “He’s not exactly thrilled that I’m here.” He answered and Aria motioned for him to go on. “He’s worried about the vampires. He thinks that you guys don’t have my back, and that without Boyd here I’m too vulnerable.”

Aria nodded her understanding. “I’d worry too. On your own you’re shit at taking care of yourself.” She teased and Derek pulled off his sock and threw it at her head. She caught it and threw it back, smacking him right in the face. “See?”

“Shut up,” Derek retorted, brooding. Aria smiled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

“How does he put up with all your angst? Honestly Derek, all this pouting isn’t as charming as you think it is.” She stood from her seat and crossed the apartment to the front door, anticipating a new arrival.

Derek could hear footsteps approaching the front door and could only guess who it was. When Aria pulled the door open, Ian joined Derek in the living room space. The other Alpha seemed perturbed, pacing back and forth in aggressively silent contemplation. Derek remained where he was, assuming Ian would speak when he was ready.

“I apologize for my earlier behaviour, I was rash and rude, and I should’ve handled myself better.” Ian started, sounding genuine but quickly moving forward. “I have a favour to ask of you,” He paused in his pacing to turn and face Derek. “Peter has an idea to draw out the remaining vampires. Displaying the dead vamp’s head was only step one. For our plan to work I need something from you, Derek.”

Derek hesitated. Their relationship was fragile, if he rejected any of Ian’s requests he could very well make an enemy and he didn’t want that. At the same time he wouldn’t do anything that might compromise his safety, for his pack’s sake. “I’m here to help in whatever way I can, but you need to know there’s only so much I can do without my pack here.”

Ian nodded. “I know, and I appreciate your situation. All I’m asking is that you stay with us for a few more weeks. A month at the most.” Ian explained, giving Derek an imploring look. Derek felt his chest tighten and his jaw clench. “It’ll take that long for Peter’s plan to come to fruition. You must know, keeping you here was my idea, not your uncle’s. He suggested that your time with us has been more than generous already, but I feel without you our numbers aren’t enough to survive the coming trials.”

Derek was silent for a long moment.

“I’ll stay until the end of the month,” Derek finally resigned, unable to resist Aria’s pleading gaze. She smiled, pulling him to his feet and giving him a warm hug.

“Thank you Derek,” She said softly, giving him one more squeeze before pulling away and heading towards the kitchen. “I think celebratory tea is in order.” Ian held out his hand and Derek shook it firmly, a silent affirmation of Derek’s intentions to honour his word.

“You have my thanks,” Ian expressed his gratitude with a nod of his head. Derek nodded back before the other Alpha made his way to the front door.

“Is there a problem with my tea or something? Is that why people are always leaving when I say I’m putting the kettle on?” Aria re-entered the room, an irritated quirk in her lips. Ian smiled apologetically at her.

“I have much to do Aria, I’ll have to take a rain check on the tea.” He continued on his way out the front door, pausing only to poke his head through the doorway while the door was closing. “Also we’re not British.” And then he disappeared, leaving Aria muttering profanities under her breath.

“I’ll have some tea. And maybe a sedative.” Derek wasn’t looking forward to telling Stiles that he’d agreed to stay even longer. He knew how Stiles would react; he’d blow it out of proportion and get angry, and then he’d try to talk Derek out of it. And when that didn’t work he’d end the call and refuse to talk to Derek until he listened to ‘reason’.

Aria disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared carrying two mugs full of steaming hot tea. Derek accepted the mug but placed it next to him on the end table, learning his lesson from eating the cookie too soon before it could cool.

“You should call him,” Aria said, making her way into the spare bedroom to grab Derek’s laptop and offered it to him. Grudgingly he took it and opened it up, typing in his password and double clicking the Skype application icon.

“And tell him all about how I have to stay away even longer and be a part of some plan that Peter came up with. He’s not gonna lose his mind _at all_.” Derek muttered drily. Aria frowned.

“What do you have against Peter?” She asked, and before Derek could answer her, his Skype burst to life, signalling an incoming call from Stiles. He quickly accepted it, fidgeting with his laptop until he was centered in the camera.

“Hey,” Derek greeted, and Stiles appeared on the screen. He smiled, but it looked tense.

“Hey.” Stiles replied, tapping his fingers anxiously against his desk. “Are you coming home yet?”

Derek took in a heavy breath. “About that,” He paused, glancing over at Aria, “It may be a while before I can come back. Things have been… unexpectedly drawn out.”

Stiles’s face immediately tightened into a dark frown. “Seriously?” He asked, his voice low.

Aria was by Derek’s side instantly, smiling brightly into the camera. “Hello there!” She chirped happily, grabbing the laptop out of Derek’s hands. “You must be Stiles. I’m Aria.”

“Oh, hi. Yeah. Aria. Nice to meet you.” Stiles still sounded standoffish, but he didn’t let his anger towards Derek ruin his first meeting ever with Derek’s only non-insane living relative. “Are you looking after Derek for me?”

Aria nodded, still smiling. “Yes, I am. Considering he doesn’t even know how to make waffles I figure he needs the extra help.”

“It’s true, he really does. I can’t count the number of times I’ve had to patch him up after a brawl with a rogue werewolf or witch.” Derek grunted; Stiles always over exaggerated. “Speaking of which, has he been getting his ass kicked by the vamps?”

“Not yet, the only trouble he’s gotten himself into is with you.” Aria smirked and dodged Derek’s attempt to retrieve his laptop. “Speaking of which, I think you should go easy on him. It’s not his fault he’s staying for a few more weeks. If you’re going to blame someone for it you can blame Ian.”

“I just miss him. I want him home so that I know he’s safe.” Stiles’s voice was quiet, tugging gently at Derek’s heart.

“I get that, and I’m going to do whatever I can to get him home to you as soon as possible, okay?” She peered at Derek, giving him a stern look. He sighed, crossing his arms and shaking his head. The only way he was going home was if they killed the last of the vampires, and he didn’t see that happening any time soon.

“Deal.” Stiles chuckled and Aria smiled brightly.

“Good. Now I’ll give you back to him before he rips my throat out or something,” Aria passed the laptop to Derek with a coy smile and began sauntering off into the kitchen, obviously pleased with herself. Derek glared at her well after she disappeared through the doorway.

“So,” Stiles cleared his throat, drawing Derek’s attention back to him, “A few more weeks huh?” Derek prepared himself for the onslaught of profanities that were sure to follow. “I guess that means you’re gonna miss sending us all back off to school.” Derek pursed his lips, refusing to even look at the screen and face whatever disappointed glare was being aimed at him. “It’s a shame really, I was looking forward to having awesome see-you-later sex.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, a smile slowly quirking the corners of his lips. “See-you-later sex?”

Stiles nodded, tilting his head. “Yeah, it’s pretty much like goodbye sex except without all the attached finality to it.” He sighed, shrugging nonchalantly. “Oh well.” He smirked, knowing full well what he was doing to Derek. “Anyways, I skimmed through the Hale bestiary and I found a few passages about vamps.”

“Anything useful?” Derek asked as he carried the laptop into the guest room where he was staying to give Stiles and him a bit more privacy.

Stiles frowned and suddenly he had the bestiary in his hands. “Well sort of. I mean, apparently a stake to the heart doesn’t actually kill them. And they do get to check their immortally hot selves out in the mirror. Sunlight definitely kills them though, and so does fire. But I don’t really see how any of that helps considering vampires probably have a healthy affinity to avoiding all things fiery and bright. Unless you want to throw a molotov cocktail at them.” Stiles prompted and Derek flashed back to the first time they’d killed Peter.

“Yeah, no thanks. Molotovs are more Lydia’s specialty. And anyways, apparently a good ol’ beheading does the trick. Ian killed one of the ones his pack captured the night Boyd left.” He paused, thinking it over. “Also I think fire would be too conspicuous.” He wanted to get rid of the vampires, not bring attention to the fact that there was a coven and a pack in the same place. It would make Toronto unsafe for Ian and Aria; hunters would show up in droves.

“So, these vamps just attacked you?” Stiles asked and Derek nodded.

“According to Ian they killed a woman named Karen, even though she was a human and defenseless.” Derek explained, and suddenly Stiles’s jaw went rigid.

“Right, because humans can’t defend themselves.” He muttered, a bitter edge to his voice. Derek rolled his eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.” Derek replied. Stiles didn’t say anything, just kept his eyes trained on the book.

“It doesn’t make sense. In the bestiary it says that vampires are political creatures, manipulating and plotting to create more power for themselves.” Stiles’s brow was furrowed with concentration; Derek would’ve commented on how sexy the expression was but he didn’t want to distract him.

“It says that?” He asked instead. Stiles shrugged, shifting a little in his seat but not looking up from the book.

“Well, those aren’t the exact words or anything but from the context that’s pretty much the gist of it. I mean, I’m sure it’s more of a generalization. There’s probably a vampire version of Peter running around, ripping people’s heads off for the fun of it. But yeah, mostly they’re socialites and bourgeoisie bitches. Very hierarchical.” Stiles explained.

Derek thought back to his encounter with Vixen, how she approached him first instead of automatically trying to kill him. “Why would they attack first? Unless they had something to gain from starting a war with the pack?” Derek asked, though it was to no one in particular.

Stiles made a thoughtful sound. “Maybe they just want to kill anything that isn’t a vampire?” He suggested, and it was possible but Derek had a sinking feeling in his stomach that not everything was as it seemed.

He sighed, scratching at his chin. “Maybe.” He paused, tired of talking about all the shit going on. All he wanted to do was talk to Stiles, see him smile. “Hey, how’s Boyd doing? He’s not too angry at me, is he?” He hadn’t heard anything from Boyd or Erica; Isaac had reached out via Skype but Derek couldn’t talk for long. Mostly he just talked to Stiles.

“What? No, he’s not angry. Well, he was pissed at first but then Erica told him about the baby and honestly? I don’t think he’s thinking about anything else. He’s too happy to be angry.” Stiles smiled, chuckling a little. “Erica’s playing it up too. ‘I’m pregnant’ has been her go-to excuse for just about everything.”

“I bet,” Derek smirked, shaking his head.

The conversation carried on from there and for the most part they managed to avoid talking about vampires and possible imminent death. It kept Derek distracted until he could feel his eyelids growing heavy with drowsiness, and by the time that happened they were already in their beds, their laptops close by.

Falling asleep next to a screen shouldn’t have made Derek feel so at ease, but for some reason it did. Just knowing that Stiles was connected to him – as poor a connection it was considering the internet was laggier than should be legal – set his mind to rest.

Tomorrow he’d question the remaining vampire – with Ian’s permission.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

There was a small knock at the door. Stiles swiveled in his chair, pulling his headphones away from his ears. “Yeah?” He called, wondering who it was and what they wanted. He’d been about to take on the last boss with his raid group, but they’d have to go on without him for a moment.

“Stiles?” Melissa’s voice came softly through the door. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Stiles stood from his chair and walked over to his door, opening it up for her and motioning with a sweep of his arm for her to enter. She smiled warmly but her shoulders were tensed up, almost to the point that they were grazing her ears.

“Can we talk?” She asked meekly. Stiles felt uncomfortably tense just looking at her.

“Uhh, yeah?” He was just as unsure as she sounded. She nodded once and her shoulders fell a little; she wasn’t entirely relaxed but at least she no longer looked like a turtle trying to disappear into her shell.

She walked passed him and stopped just beyond his bed. For the moment her back was turned to him and he couldn’t see the array of emotions on her face, but as she turned to face him she regained her composure. “Sit, please.” She nodded at his desk chair and he obediently went and plopped down into it.

She began pacing; she kept twiddling her hands nervously while she stared down at the floor. “Are you okay?” He asked, suddenly on edge and worried that something terrible had happened. “Is my dad okay? Did something happen to Scott?” He began to stand, about to make a mad dash to the door to help whoever was in trouble, but he froze when Melissa held out a steady hand.

“No, no. Sorry. I’m not really sure how to… approach this with you.” Slowly Stiles sat back down. “We haven’t really had a chance to talk about your dad and me, and what it means when we get married.” She paused, taking a deep breath. “Stiles I never wanted to upset you. I never want you to feel awkward or uneasy about coming home to us. You mean so much to your father, and you mean so much to me, I don’t know what I would do if you thought you were unwelcome, or if you thought I was trying to…”

“Replace my mother?” Stiles was quiet, staring down at his hands. He looked up to meet Melissa’s worried gaze. “I know you aren’t trying to replace her. I know you genuinely love my dad and you two are happy together – I’ve seen a change in him over the past few years. You’re good for him, Melissa. And I love you for that. I love you for raising Scott to be the man he is today, I love you for being there for me and my dad after everything with my mom, and I love you for being the strong, accepting, wonderful woman that you are. You’re an amazing person Melissa. You’re… You’re like a mom to me.” Stiles paused, blinking in an attempt to hold the tears back. “You _are_ a mom to me. I know my mom will always be my mom and nothing will ever change that. But… I don’t know. I think I’m lucky to have two moms. One to look over me and one to look out for me.”

After he ended his speech Melissa scooped him up into her arms and gave him a crushing hug. “I’ll always be here for you Stiles.” She promised and he shut his eyes tightly, holding onto her just as firmly as she was to him.

“Thank you.” He pulled away, holding onto her arms and looking her in the eye. “For everything. I mean it. I can’t wait for you to marry my dad. It’s about damn time, really.” He smiled and she laughed, shaking her head.

She gave his hands a tight squeeze and leaned in to kiss him on the forehead. “Thank you, Stiles.” She smiled, and he nodded, letting her know that it was no big deal. He was happy for her and for his dad. After she left he returned to his computer to find that he’d been slain and left for dead.

“You bastards.” He muttered under his breath. And just like that things were back to normal. Melissa called him down for dinner an hour later, and as he sat at the dining room table with Scott, Allison, Chris, Stiles’s dad, and Melissa, Stiles realized that this was always how it was meant to be.

The only thing missing was the rest of the pack and one grouchy, loveable Alpha. Stiles wasn’t going to rest easy until Derek was back in Stiles’s arms.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“I just want five minutes with him.” Derek attempted for the billionth time but Sebastian, one of Ian’s Betas – the one that used to be human until recently – wasn’t cooperating. He snorted, glaring at Derek with a large amount of suspicion. “There are just a few questions I need to ask him. Ian told me I could.” Derek didn’t want to play the Alpha card but clearly he wasn’t getting into the interrogation room unless he flexed a bit of muscle.

Seb’s eyes narrowed sharply. “Did he now? Because I haven’t heard anything about it.”

Derek pursed his lips to stop himself from snarling. “Call him and ask him yourself.” He squared his shoulders and watched as Seb’s suspicion fell from his face.

“Ian! Peter!” He cleared his throat and took a step away from Derek, no longer barring Derek’s way. “I wasn’t expecting you until later.” He looked mildly worried.

Ian waved him off. “We’ve received intel about the coven. They’re planning their retaliation for the headless vampire Derek set up in the park. According to our source there are three of them meeting up at an old abandoned warehouse on the edge of the city. I need you, Daniel, and Celeste to go there and try to listen in on what they’re planning.”

“Just the three of us?” Seb asked, his eyes flickering towards Peter for a brief moment. Derek’s uncle gave a slight tilt of his head. “I thought Aria might come along to something like this.”

Ian frowned. “She’ll stay here with us. Now go.” He ordered and Sebastian only hesitated a moment more before staring down at his feet and making his way passed them. “You have five minutes with the vampire Derek.” Ian nodded in the direction of the door.

“I’d like to accompany him,” Aria appeared suddenly in the corridor, striding towards them with a stubborn set to her jaw. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t kill it.” Derek rolled his eyes; killing was definitely more Peter’s style. Aria smirked.

“Alright, but I still don’t see what the point of all of this is,” Ian grumbled. Peter nodded his agreement.

“Shouldn’t you be off on an airplane somewhere to rejoin your misfit pack?” Peter directed at Derek and then turned towards Aria. “And shouldn’t you be at home reading through your boring harlequin romance novels?”

Aria’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. How many times do I have to tell you that?” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. The truth still remains that neither you nor Derek should be here right now. So why don’t the two of you kids run along?” Peter suggested with a condescending smile that tested the limits of Derek’s patience.

“I need to ask the vampire something.” Derek refused to let his uncle boss him around. Derek was an Alpha, not Peter.

“He’s not going to tell you anything,” Peter tried insistently but Ian rested his hand on Peter’s shoulder to quiet him.

“It’s fine, perhaps he’ll have more luck than you’ve had with this one.” Ian motioned for both Derek and Aria to proceed into the room. Derek led the way with Aria close behind him. Once the door slammed shut they turned their attention on the pale, sickly looking creature tied to a chair in the center of the room.

The vampire barely raised his head to acknowledge that his isolation had been relieved. “You’re all going to die.”

“Aren’t you pleasant,” Aria smiled, approaching the vampire. “Instead of being a vampire elitist you should think about handing out candy grams.”

Derek shook his head, rubbing circles into his temples to try and soothe the growing headache. “Why did your coven attack the Toronto pack?” He only had five minutes with the vampire, so he’d have to make it count.

The vamp started laughing; it was bitter and breathless and Derek wanted to strangle him. “You’re the first one to ask me that.” The vampire snorted, spitting a large ball of phlegm onto the concrete floor. “Clearly you’re not a part of this pack so why are you here?”

“I asked you a question.” Derek replied, leaning against the cold, bare wall with his arms crossed tightly. “Why didn’t you all just leave when you were informed this was werewolf territory? What made it worth it to stay? I mean, you’ve already lost two of your own, and now you’ve got an entire pack of pissed off werewolves after you.”

The vampire stared straight ahead, his eyes cold and dead. Or, well, undead, considering he was a vampire and everything. “What day is it?” He asked, instead of answering any of Derek’s questions.

Derek was beginning to grow impatient. Luckily he had Aria there to hold him back if he lost it and tried to tear the vampire’s limbs off. “It’s Tuesday.” She humoured the vampire.

He smirked, finally pulling his gaze away from the wall and pinning it on her. “You’re all going to die today.”

Aria pursed her lips. “Oh, so now we have a date. It’s not just that we’re going to die; we’re going to die today. Thanks for the clarification.”

Derek sighed. “If you don’t answer the question the only one who’s going to die is you.” He paused, giving the vampire a dark look. He crossed over and leaned down, one hand on the vampire’s shoulder. “I promise to make it nice and slow, and as painful as possible.”

The vampire’s sick, twisted smile returned. “By all means, get started now while you have the chance. My friends will be here soon enough to carve you into neat little pieces.” Derek blinked.

Now they were getting somewhere.

“You have friends? Really? I guess there’s someone for everybody, even raving, rabid vampires.” Aria remarked, shrugging to herself.

“I think I’ll rip your tongue out first,” The vampire began, nodding at Aria, “Maybe even force feed it back to you before I rip his head off.” He directed that last part at Derek. “Payback for Bennet and all, you understand.”

“You seem to be under the impression that you’re going to live to see tomorrow.” Derek observed and the vampire tilted his head at him.

“I am. You’re not. Time’s running out pup.” The vampire sat back in the chair, as if he were getting comfortable.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Aria asked, and Derek could hear her heart speeding up as her anxiety grew. The vampire’s lips twitched up into a half-smile, but he remained silent.

“If you’re not gonna talk then you’re useless.” Derek reached down, grabbing the vamp’s throat and slowly crushing it. The vampire’s eyes widened with surprise and he struggled to free himself. “I’m gonna rip your throat out, and then I’m gonna set you on fire.” Derek threatened.

The vampire choked out a garbled, “ _wait_ ,” and Derek only hesitated a moment before releasing him. After he struggled to catch his breath, the vampire looked up at Derek with a furious, crazed look in his eyes. “Peter.” He coughed and then inhaled deeply. “He made a deal with Kaleigh.”

Derek froze. It took a moment for him to process the information. “Peter?” He asked, hoping he’d misheard the vampire.

“Peter Hale specifically.” The vampire verified.

“You’re _lying_.” Aria growled, her eyes glowing a rich amber as her claws and fangs extended. Derek side-stepped quickly, allowing his cousin to grab the vampire’s throat. “You’re lying!” She repeated, roaring the words in anger.

The vampire started laughing; the sound of it too harsh and loud. Before Derek could do anything Aria followed through on Derek’s threat, ripping the vampire’s throat out. The vampire’s head slumped down, its chin rolling against its neck which was suddenly a stump in the blink of an eye. Aria discarded the head, tossing it to the ground and turning on her heels to open the door and storm out.

The moment the door swung open she stopped in her tracks. Derek looked passed her into the hallway, and what he saw made his blood run cold.

“Well this is awkward,” Peter grimaced. Ian’s body was slumped over on the floor. Peter’s arm was coated with blood and in his hand was a heart. Ian’s heart.

Peter’s eyes were glowing red.


	13. Chapter 13

Derek froze; his brain was in overdrive putting the pieces together, but he was paralyzed with the realization. His uncle was a sadistic, power hungry monster; more so than before, which had seemed impossible.

He sold out his own pack – a pack that had taken a chance when they had accepted him into their ranks. And he betrayed them without remorse.

"Why?" Aria cried, choking on sobs that rocked through her trembling body. Peter looked unaffected by the state his niece was in.

He sighed heavily, like the question bored him. "I'm surprised you didn't see this coming," he shrugged, "What with my lewd behaviour back in Beacon Hills."

Aria frowned, looking back and forth between Derek and Peter with a confused frown darkening her features. “What happened in Beacon Hills?” She asked, staring directly at Derek.

"What, he didn’t tell you? And here I thought you two were so close.” Peter spoke before Derek could answer her. “Although, I suppose it makes sense that he’d keep his mouth shut about it. He just wanted to get me out of his hair. I did think it strange at first, that Ian welcomed me so easily into his pack.” He turned his crazed eyes on Derek. “After all, bloodthirsty murderers usually have a harder time finding friends.”

Derek ground his teeth together; glaring at the man in front of him like he was cancer. “It looks like you have no trouble finding friends. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that the only people you get along with are Nazi vampires.”

Peter shrugged. “The coven and I have a lot in common. They want power, I wanted to be Alpha.” Aria let out a roar of anger, taking a threatening step towards Peter. Instantly there were two vampires at his back; Vixen and another woman. “Easy niece, we don’t want there to be any unnecessary bloodshed.”

Aria growled. “ _Unnecessary bloodshed_? What exactly made Ian’s heart being ripped from his chest anything other than unnecessary?” Her voice cracked, the pain of it all too fresh and overwhelming. Her knees buckled and Derek caught her before she fell to the ground. “You’re a _monster_!”

Peter shrugged, clearly still indifferent to the pain he was causing. “I tried to keep you two out of it. Derek wasn’t even supposed to be here for as long as he was, and you, Aria, were supposed to be tucked away in your apartment for this part of the plan. Unfortunately things don’t always work out the way we want them to.”

“Are you going to kill us?” Derek asked, because that was the bottom line here. He didn’t care about Peter or his corruption; his justification for killing people to get ahead in the world.

Peter frowned. “Do you honestly still think so lowly of me Derek? After everything we’ve been through?”

Derek laughed out loud at that; the sound was bitter and more of a bark of exasperation than anything else. “Seriously?” His uncle was psychotic and delusional if he thought that they’d in any way grown closer since Derek had all but banished Peter to Canada. He’d killed Laura and he’d tried to kill Derek before, so it wasn’t exactly a stretch of the imagination to consider Peter capable of killing family.

“You two are the only family I have left,” Peter started and Derek couldn’t hold himself back from rolling his eyes, because clearly family meant absolutely _nothing_ to Peter, “I’m not going to kill you.” He paused, giving Derek a heavy look. “I’m going to erase your memories."

"Erase our memories?" Aria asked, horror slowly forming in the expression of her eyes. Peter shrugged.

"Plan A was to lie until you believed me." He paused, wearing a fake expression of sympathy. "Oh Aria! The vampires were about to kill Ian, but I got to him first. And he needed me to kill him, so that I could be Alpha and take care of the pack!" He mock-whined, and then rolled his eyes. "It might not have been the best explanation, but you would've believed me. You already lost your Alpha, you couldn't lose your uncle too."

"I'm going to kill you." Aria growled and Peter laughed.

"I'd like to see you try." He smirked and Derek had enough of listening to the poison his uncle was spewing.

Derek took a threatening step towards Peter, allowing his wolf to surge forward and take form. His claws and fangs extended and he pinned his uncle with a dark look. “This ends right now.” He roared and lunged forward, grabbing his uncle’s throat in his hand. Before he could rip out his uncle’s trachea, the two vampires moved forward at once and grabbed his shoulders, slamming him down on the concrete floor.

They smashed his head into the cold cement and everything went black.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“Something is seriously wrong,” Stiles grumbled. He’d been feeling pretty good all day; he’d officially applied to all the courses he’d wanted to for second semester and now he was spending time with Allison and Lydia. They’d decided to lounge around Stiles’s dad’s house and watch a movie until Scott, Jackson, Danny, and Isaac got back from the gym.

In the middle of _Love Actually_ Stiles’s stomach started to feel uneasy.

“Maybe it was those tacos you ate earlier. Do you even know how long they were in the fridge?” Allison asked and Stiles shrugged.

“Tasted fine to me,” He paused, his stomach growing even tenser, “This is really not a good feeling.” The only time Stiles ever felt this kind of anxiety was when someone from the pack was in trouble and hurting. The sensation was connected to pack bonds; one of the more helpful side effects of being a part of a werewolf pack.

Lydia nodded, frowning. “I feel it too. Something’s wrong. I’m calling Jackson.” She rummaged around in her purse until she found her phone and dialed the number. “Hey, are you okay? Are you still at the gym with Isaac and Danny?” There was a short pause. “Yeah, we feel it too. Stiles is calling Erica and Boyd right now to see if they’re okay and Allison’s getting a hold of her dad. Tell Scott to call his mom and Stiles’s dad to make sure they’re good.”

“Erica, hey, is Boyd with you?” Stiles asked and there was a short pause.

“Yeah, he’s here. There’s this weird feeling though, like something bad is about to happen,” Erica sounded worried, and the knot inside of Stiles’s gut grew tighter. “Has anyone tried to reach Derek?”

At the sound of Derek’s name everything inside of Stiles constricted. His heart beat rapidly in his chest and his skin felt like it was on fire. “It’s Derek.” Stiles managed to say before his lungs seized. As soon as the words were out everything around him started to move again – Lydia was telling Jackson to grab the boys and come home as soon as possible, and Allison was telling her father to bring over her passport.

Stiles sat on the couch, internally struggling to hold himself together. He couldn’t break down – he had things to do and figure out and having a panic attack was definitely not one of those things.

“The earliest flight we can make is in three hours.” Allison announced and Stiles’s fingers twitched.

“How long will the flight be?” He asked, wishing he could just teleport to Toronto like Nightcrawler from X-Men. They didn’t know how long Derek had, or how much danger he was in, or if he was in pain. He could be dead by the time the plane even took off.

“It’s a seven hour flight.” Allison’s tone was grim. Obviously they weren’t thinking optimistically.

Lydia stood from the couch, pulling Stiles to his feet and dragging him in the direction of the stairs. “Go pack a bag. A change of clothes, your toothbrush, whatever you need for the trip.” Stiles hesitated on the stairs but she gave him an encouraging nudge. “We’ll handle this. Just try and focus on getting what you need together,” She paused, “Maybe try reading through some more of the vampire page in the bestiary.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Allison smiled warmly. Stiles just nodded. He made his way upstairs and into his room, pulling out his overnight bag from his closet and started collecting articles of clothing he’d need.

Canada was cold and it was still winter so it would probably be _extra_ cold, which meant that the woolen socks Derek had given him for Christmas were _definitely_ coming. Two sweaters, extra boxers, a pair of sweatpants, and jeans. Toothbrush. Hairbrush.

When it was all packed away he didn’t have anything to keep his hands busy, which meant his mind was free to wander and right then that was dangerous territory. He retrieved the Hale bestiary from where he kept it next to his bed and started thumbing through the pages. He got halfway through before slamming it shut and tossing it aside; too anxious to pay attention to how horribly he was handling the centuries old book.

There was a knock on the door and suddenly Scott was pushing his way into Stiles’s room. “You okay bro?”

“Yeah. Are we leaving?” Stiles shot upright, grabbing his bag and jumping to his feet. Scott looked concerned about Stiles’s mental well-being, but they didn't have time to worry about anything other than Derek right now. “Don’t give me that look Scott. I’m fine. When are we leaving?”

“Ten minutes. Are you sure you want to come?” Scott asked, still hesitant. Stiles ground his teeth together – Scott should just _know_. Stiles shouldn’t have to prove himself or justify what he was feeling. If it was Allison in trouble Stiles wouldn’t even ask; Scott wouldn’t have to say a damn thing.

“Did you book me a ticket?” Stiles asked, his voice as hard as his glare.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to-,” Scott started but Stiles shook his head.

“Don’t.” He warned, pushing his way passed Scott. “Derek’s in trouble. I’m going.” There wasn’t going to be a discussion or debate; it was happening.

“Alright,” Scott sighed and followed Stiles downstairs. Allison, Danny, Lydia, Jackson, and Isaac were all waiting by the front door.

“Allison and Jackson are going with you guys, Boyd is meeting you at the airport.” Lydia explained as each of them filed out one by one. “Isaac and Danny are staying here along with Erica. We’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone, make sure no one tries to mess with our territory.”

Stiles hadn’t even thought about that; with the majority of them on a flight to Toronto it left Beacon Hills wide open for an attack, which is something they _so_ did not need right now. “Are you sure you guys will be okay?” He asked, and Lydia rolled her eyes.

“You’re the ones heading straight into uncharted territory to save our Alpha,” She paused, a small smile softening her features, “We’ll be fine Stiles. Just be safe and smart. Get back to us in one piece.” She directed that to all of them, her gaze lingering the longest on Jackson.

Jackson wrapped her up in a hug as Stiles and the rest of them headed towards Stiles’s jeep, giving the two of them a moment alone to say their goodbyes. As soon as Jackson threw his bag in the back and hopped into the jeep, Stiles gunned it out of the driveway and towards the highway.

Every second that ticked by was another second the forlorn feeling intensified, but Stiles wasn’t going to fall apart until he knew Derek was dead. Until then they had time, and Stiles wasn’t going to waste a single moment of it dwelling on all the what ifs and discouraging possibilities.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

When Derek regained consciousness he opened his eyes to find that the interrogation room had become his new prison. The vampire’s blood still stained the floor, and Derek was chained up in the same chair. Aria was across the room, bound by chains and unconscious.

“Aria?” He called out to her, straining to hear the low beat of her heart. It was weak, but it was still there. “Aria!” She blinked her eyes open, a dull haze in her distant expression. “Are you okay?” He asked, scanning what he could see of her head and body. It didn’t look like she had any fatal injuries, but Peter could have already taken away her memories.

“Derek?” She asked, blinking a few times and slowly sitting herself up. She tried to raise a hand to her forehead, but the chains were too constricting. She looked confused for a moment, frowning and tugging on the chains. “What happened?”

“What do you remember?” Derek wanted to tell her what had happened before he blacked out, but if Peter had taken her memories away he’d have to approach his cousin and the way he dealt with this as carefully as he could.

Aria took a deep breath, a pained expression contorting her features. “The vampires jumped you and I think Peter knocked me out.” She paused, the pain replaced by anger. “That fucking _bastard_.” Derek nodded his agreement. He let out a relieved breath. There was still time, and a chance that they could get themselves out of this mess.

“Ian’s dead…” Derek trailed off and Aria winced.

“Thanks for that pleasant little reminder.” Aria sighed, staring down at her hands. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she strained against her binds and wiped them away, stiffened her back up and leaned against the wall behind her. She sniffed and composed herself, looking Derek directly in the eye. “You knew he was capable of this.” It wasn’t a question. Aria knew Derek hadn’t been forthright at first about their uncle. He should have been. He should have warned them about Peter’s homicidal, psychopathic past, but he hadn’t cared.

He only cared about his pack, and that meant getting rid of Peter no matter the cost to his cousin. And he hated himself for that. But there was still a lingering thought in the back of his mind. At least it had been Ian and not Derek.

It was selfish. Derek was selfish. He put his pack first above all else and now he was facing the consequences. Maybe he deserved this.

“Look at me,” Aria ordered. Derek stopped staring at the floor and he faced her. “You owe me an explanation. Once we get out of here you’ll tell me everything. For now we need to work together.” She paused, waiting for him to acknowledge her words. He nodded, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “Good. Do you think your pack knows you’re in trouble?”

Derek frowned; there was no way for them to know for sure that Derek was in danger. They could probably sense through the link that something was wrong, but they wouldn’t drop everything and come to Canada overnight… would they?

“I don’t know.” Derek answered honestly, deflating and staring down at the floor. He wanted his pack by his side, but he didn’t want them in harm’s way either. “What about the rest of your pack?” Surely some of them still lived; Sebastian, Daniel, and Celeste had all been on their way to the deserted warehouse. Hopefully that hadn’t been another one of Peter’s traps.

Aria’s face went pale and her eyes widened in terror. “ _Oh my god._ ” Her eyes began to well up with tears as the realization hit her. “They could all be _dead_.” She brought her bound hands up to her face, smothering her tears and trying to hide the immense pain she felt. “Lyla’s _pregnant_ Derek! And she and Jacob already have two girls. You don’t think they’d go after her family, do you?”

Derek could feel a knot twisting in his gut. “I’m sure they’re fine,” He lied, because he wasn’t sure of anything right now. Aria heard the tremor in his voice, and his heart, and suddenly she went still and silent. She looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and her cheeks flushed.

“We’re going to kill him.” She growled, giving Derek a dark look. “We’re going to kill him and every single vampire in this city.” It was a promise, and Derek didn’t doubt that she meant to keep it.

Suddenly the metal door swung open and in walked Peter accompanied by the two vampires from before. He walked to the center of the room and turned to face Derek, a perplexed crease in his forehead. “You really aren’t giving me any choices here,” He sighed, “Either I take away your memories or you try to kill me. I’m just trying to save your lives.”

Aria snorted, directing the attention away from Derek and onto her. “The only one you’re doing any favours for is yourself.” She sneered at him, and Vixen, who’d been watching the scene with a sort of apathetic boredom, started smiling sickly at Aria.

“Such a temper,” She _tsked_ , “I bet you’d be fun at parties.” Vixen draped her arm over the other vampire’s shoulders, resting her head in the crook of the other’s neck. “What do you think Kaleigh? Should we keep this one as a pet?”

Peter snapped, his eyes glowing a threatening red as he glared at the two vamps. “No one touches Aria or Derek.” He growled; his fangs and claws extending threateningly. Kaleigh rolled her eyes, nudging Vixen off of her to take a step towards Peter.

“So long as you hold up your end of our little agreement, we won’t touch a single hair on their pretty little muzzles.” Kaleigh assured Peter before raising an eyebrow at him. “Are we going to get on with it then?”

Peter nodded, kneeling down before Aria and resting his hand on her knee. She jerked away, out of his reach. “We’ll do Aria first, I’ll need to reserve more power before I can get rid of another Alpha’s memories.” Vixen and Kaleigh swiftly grabbed hold of Aria and began dragging her away, kicking and screaming, the chains dragging across the floor after them.

Peter didn’t even wince. Derek was screaming too; straining against the chains that bound him to the chair. “Peter don’t do this,” He tried, but it was to no avail. Peter didn’t even spare a second glance over his shoulder as the door shut heavily behind him, leaving Derek alone and feeling maddeningly useless.

He didn’t know what sick, twisted plans his uncle had for them, but it seemed Peter was going to get exactly what he wanted.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“How exactly are we going to find _one_ person in a city with a population of over _two and a half million_?” Jackson snapped; they were all frustrated and tired and anxious, but Jackson’s attitude _so_ was not helping. The plane ride had been unbearably long and drawn-out, and customs had given them a hard time when they saw how antsy Stiles was.

After they’d managed to get out of the airport hailing two taxis seemed impossible, so they trudged over to the rent-a-car building and waited in line for half an hour before they finally got served. Filling out the paperwork took another ten minutes, and then five minutes to process, and then finally – _finally_ – they loaded up their rented van and crammed themselves inside.

“That’s why you brought me along,” Boyd answered dismissively, too focused on driving to care about Jackson’s shitty attitude. Stiles fidgeted in his seat, his leg bouncing uncontrollably and smashing his knee accidentally on the back of Scott’s seat in front of him.

Scott turned around, a worried expression clouding his features. “Are you sure you’re okay bro?” He asked, and Stiles’s fingers curled into tight fists.

“I’m fine,” He snapped back, and he felt a little bad about it but everyone needed to stop asking him that stupid question. Of course he wasn’t okay. He wouldn’t be okay until he saw that Derek was okay, and even then he probably wouldn’t be okay because he fucking _knew_ Derek and Boyd should’ve just stayed home.

This was a shit storm that could have been totally avoided if Derek had just _listened_ to him.

When Boyd finally pulled over and parked outside of an apartment building Stiles was the first one out of the van. He got inside the building and to the elevator and waited impatiently for Allison and the werewolves – all of whom were obviously capable of keeping up to Stiles’s human pace, thank you very much – to catch up to him.

“Derek’s scent is too faint, I don’t think he’s been here for a while.” Boyd murmured and pressed the button for the elevator. “If we don’t find Aria…” He trailed off, a deep frown creasing his forehead.

Stiles didn’t want to think about what they might or might not find up in Derek’s cousin’s apartment.

They all piled into the elevator and as they made their way up at a steady pace of agonizingly too slow, no one said a word. When the doors reopened the werewolves all seemed to tense up in perfect synchronization.

“Wolves.” Jackson growled, his eyes glowing a fierce blue. Scott and Boyd reacted in pretty much the same way; Allison grabbed Stiles and forced him behind her, acting as a human shield between him and whatever it was they were about to go up against.

Jackson stepped out of the elevator and immediately crouched down defensively, baring his teeth at whatever was waiting for them down the hallway. There was a blur of movement and suddenly Jackson was being tackled to the ground.

Scott reacted quickly, throwing himself into the fray and slamming into the attacker to knock them off of Jackson. Scott had the unknown wolf pinned to the wall when Boyd suddenly tore Scott away from them.

The elevator doors dinged and began to close, obscuring Stiles’s view of the scene, but Allison caught the doors before they closed and grabbed Stiles’s hand. She led them out of the elevator and into the hallway, always keeping him firmly behind her back.

“Daniel?” Boyd asked, his fangs and claws receding. The boy that had attacked them blinked slowly, his yellow eyes fading as he began to relax.

“Boyd? What the hell are you doing here?” Daniel cast a glance over the rest of the group, his confusion growing as his eyes passed over each of their faces. “Who are they?”

“My pack,” Boyd replied, resting a steadying hand on Daniel’s shoulder. The other wolf looked like he was about to throw up or fall to the floor and curl into a fetal position. “We’re here to help, Daniel. Tell us what happened.”

Daniel hesitated. He looked at all of them again, obviously not about to trust them so entirely, even if Boyd had given him his word. “Follow me,” Daniel finally said, but he kept glancing over his shoulder as he led them down the hallway and into one of the apartments.

When they reached the living room there were others waiting for them; two men, a woman, and three kids. The children seemed to be unaware of the tension in the room. They ran around playing tag, laughing and shouting and knocking things over.

“Boyd, this is Patrick and his wife Lauren. And this is Lyla’s husband Jacob.” Daniel introduced them all, but at the mention of Lyla’s name he seemed to withdraw.

“Where’s Lyla?” Boyd asked, and Stiles saw the way Jacob’s face twisted in anguish, and he just _knew_.

“Lyla’s dead.” Daniel stated without emotion. “And Sebastian is the one that killed her. Not the vampires. _Sebastian_.” Patrick growled from where he sat beside his wife.

“Traitors. Him and Celeste,” Patrick paused, “And Peter.”

Stiles snorted; Peter a traitor? Like they hadn’t seen _that_ coming.

“Sebastian and Celeste lured me to an abandoned building on the outskirts of town and gave me an ultimatum. They told me that Ian was dead and that I either joined their new pack or I died along with the old one. I chose option three. I shifted and threw Celeste into the wall and I ran.” Daniel spoke, his eyes distant with the memory. “I barely got out alive but I made it back to Patrick in time to warn him.”

“We tried to get everyone out in time but Celeste grabbed Emily, my youngest daughter,” Jacob spoke softly, his eyes trained on the floor. “Lyla sacrificed herself to save her.”

One of the children ran into the room and leapt into Jacob’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. She buried her face there and Jacob stood, carrying his daughter into the next room. “We know where they’re hiding,” Patrick stood, crossing the room to look Boyd directly in the eyes. “Lyla’s sacrifice won’t be for nothing. We’re going to kill them. The vampires, Peter, Sebastian and Celeste. All of them.”

There was a long moment of silence. “What about Derek and Aria?” Allison asked, and that’s the question Stiles had been about to ask himself. “Do you know where they are?”

“They’re with the vampires.” Daniel answered and Stiles’s heart jack-hammered. Daniel’s eyes turned on him then, and he frowned like this was the first time noticing Stiles’s presence. “We don’t know if they’re alive or dead, or if they’ve been allied with Peter and the vampires this whole time.”

“Derek’s not a traitor.” Stiles growled. “Peter? Yes. Totally a jackass and a traitor. But not Derek and not Aria. The Hales are a family of their word and they always put family first.” Stiles paused, pursing his lips a little. “Peter’s probably adopted.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “And how can we trust _you_?” He asked, glaring at Stiles. “You’re Derek’s mate. I can smell him all over you. You’d say anything to keep him safe.”

“Trust _me_ then, if you can’t trust him,” Boyd interrupted, taking a step in between Stiles and Daniel. “We’re here to help in whatever way we can, but if you try to harm Derek or Aria without knowing for sure what role they did or didn’t play in all of this, you’ll have a lot more to worry about than vengeance and vampires.”

Daniel stared Stiles down for a long moment before turning his hard gaze on Boyd. “Fine.” His short reply was enough to eliminate some of the tension that had built up in the room. “They’re holed up in one of our warehouses.”

“Do you have any blueprints of the building?” Stiles asked and Patrick frowned.

“Blueprints?” He asked, and Stiles nodded. Daniel snorted; obviously still not impressed with Stiles.

“Yeah. Blueprints. A visual layout of the building that can help us figure out what we’re dealing with. Back doors, easy access points, corners that are good for ambushing...?” Stiles tried to explain but was only met with blank looks. “Haven’t you ever broken into a place before?”

Patrick and Daniel exchanged a small glance. “Uh… no…” Daniel trailed off, raising an eyebrow at Stiles. “Have you?”

Stiles licked his lips, tilting his head. “Once or twice… on five or six separate occasions.” Daniel gave Boyd an incredulous look.

Boyd just shrugged.

“Okay, well,” Daniel sighed, “I think Ian might’ve kept some sort of documentation on all of his holdings, but they’re in his office at his apartment.”

“Good. Grab whatever you can find that might help us.” Stiles ordered and Daniel reluctantly nodded. Stiles turned to Patrick next. “Do you have any weapons? Guns? Swords?”

Patrick’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t have guns here, this isn’t America. This is Canada.”

Allison smiled sweetly. “I don’t need guns. Do you know where the nearest store is that sells bows and arrows?” Patrick took a minute to think about.

“Yeah, I can drive you there. We’ll be back within the hour.” He motioned for Allison to join him, and Scott followed after them with a nod at Stiles.

“I’ll need a highlighter, pens, and lots of paper.” Stiles said, and Patrick’s wife stood and disappeared into one of the rooms without a word. She returned with all that he’d asked for. “Thank you.”

She nodded and then retreated to the room where Jacob had disappeared into earlier.

Stiles wandered deeper into the apartment, finding the spare room where Derek’s stuff was strewn about. Silently Stiles slipped out of his own shirt and pulled one of Derek’s over his head. Derek’s scent was faint but it was still there. It comforted Stiles a little; enough that he could focus on creating the basic strategies they might use to save Derek and Aria.

It could be too late, and Stiles knew that. But he didn’t dwell on it. He was going to get Derek and Aria out of there, and he was going to slay a few vampires along the way.


	14. Chapter 14

The parking lot of the warehouse was dimly lit; only a few street lamps overhead illuminated the open space. Stiles squinted across the lot, trying to get a better look at the building.

It was quiet and still, as if completely deserted. But Stiles knew – he could _feel_ Derek somewhere inside the building. He could feel the magnetic pull towards his mate, the indescribable sensation of their bond growing stronger and stronger as he neared the warehouse.

Scott and Allison were with him; Scott’s golden eyes bright as they scanned the shadows for any signs of movement. Allison held on tight to her composite bow, the arrow already strung and ready.

Boyd, Jackson, and Patrick were on the opposite side of the lot getting ready to make their move. Stiles and Jacob had studied the blueprints Daniel had found in Ian’s study; they had examined every inch of the property and devised a plan to get inside the warehouse.

Boyd’s team was basically the distraction team, while Stiles’s group was the extraction team. The moment Boyd gave the signal they’d make their way across the empty parking lot and in through the back door of the warehouse.

“This is where the holding rooms are,” Daniel had pointed to one wing of the building with eight separate rooms, all the same square footage. According to him, those were the rooms the pack used for containing any threats that passed through their territory. “If Derek and Aria are being held anywhere, it’ll be in one of those rooms.”

“Do you know how many vampires are still alive?” Stiles asked, leaning over the kitchen table they’d been using to display the blueprints. “Chances are Celeste and Sebastian are there too,” Stiles thought out loud, chewing on the tip of his thumb as he concentrated. “Send Allison and Scott to the warehouse early and tell them to watch for patrols. But keep a safe distance. We don’t want them knowing we’re there.”

“I’ll send Patrick with them,” Daniel nodded, leaving Stiles alone in the room with his thoughts. There were a few points of entry that might get overlooked during a routine patrol – the roof, the sewers, the back entrance – but it all depended on how many they were up against.

The only way to be sure was to draw them out. Which is exactly what they were going to do.

When Stiles, Jackson, Daniel, and Boyd regrouped with Scott, Allison, and Patrick, they exchanged information. As far as they’d seen Celeste and Sebastian were the only ones making their rounds around the property.

Inside the building could be a different matter altogether though. By the time the separate groups got into position night had fallen, which allowed the vampires that had previously gone unseen during the day had a chance to reveal themselves in the night. They waited an extra hour – hidden in the underbrush of the thick forest that lined the perimeter – to see two vampires slink out of the building.

When they disappeared back through the door they’d appeared from it was time to make their move.

Stiles watched as three figures emerged from the darkness; Boyd, Jackson, and Patrick. Patrick led the charge with Boyd and Jackson at his back. The three of them began howling, the sound of it piercing and just the right amount of _not subtle at all_ to draw the attention of whomever heard it.

The door to the warehouse swung open, but before the vampire could even take one step outside, Patrick lunged and tore out the vampire’s neck. Blood splattered in the air, showering down on the pavement and painting it red. The vampire’s body slumped to the ground and lay motionless as the rest of the surroundings burst into action.

A couple more figures emerged, but they’d been prepared enough that there was no longer an element of surprise to the distraction team’s efforts. All-out battle broke out between the five of them, and soon six once another vampire joined the skirmish.

Stiles counted to sixty in his head and then he was on the move. Scott and Allison followed, all three of them keeping low to the ground and stepping as lightly as possible. Once they made it to the back door Scott took point, carefully opening the door and slipping through. Stiles slid through next, followed shortly by Allison.

As the door shut behind them they were shrouded in complete darkness. Stiles couldn’t see anything. “What do we have here?” A voice in the darkness called out, turning Stiles’s veins to ice. His first instinct was to freeze; become invisible. Obviously that wasn’t going to happen.

Suddenly a hand gripped at Stiles’s hand and he stopped breathing for a moment, the only thing working properly being his heart, which was in overdrive thrumming against his ribcage.

There was sick laughter that echoed through the room. “Your fear smells _almost_ as good as all that blood your heart is racing to pump through your delicate little veins.” The person who’d grabbed Stiles’s hand gave it a tight squeeze.

“Stiles,” Allison whispered, and relief flooded through him. “Scott?”

“I’m right here,” Scott murmured back, his voice sounding right in front of Stiles. Stiles reached out with his free hand, grabbing a hold of whatever he could of Scott’s body – in passing hoping that he wasn’t feeling his bro up in awkward places. “She’s not here,” Scott said, grabbing Stiles’s hand. He began to walk forward and Stiles held on tight, following as closely as he could and pulling Allison along with him. “She’s close though,” Scott growled a warning.

“Every step you take is one step closer to me,” the voice resonated, low and threatening, “I think I’ll eat the archer first, and then I’ll kill the wolf. I’ll save the scared little lamb for last. Fear always tastes sweet; you’ll be my dessert.”

Scott led them through the darkness; Stiles’s eyes shutting tightly as his jaw tightened and he fought against the fear and panic. He wasn’t afraid of the shadows or of the vampire stalking them.

The only thing he was afraid of was losing Derek or Scott or Allison, or Boyd or Jackson. But he would overcome that fear and press on. He wouldn’t let the vampire get inside his head and infest his mind with doubt.

“He’s already dead you know,” The voice went on, sounding bored now, “You’re too late to save your precious little Alpha. We killed him. Made him hurt first, though. Heard him screaming. Pleading for his life. Pathetic, really.”

“Shut up,” Stiles muttered under his breath, and the cackling began again, echoing through the hollow room and pounding against Stiles’s brain. “ _Shut the fuck up_!” He snarled, and Allison held on tighter to his hand.

Scott came to a stop in front of him and Stiles face planted into his back. Suddenly the lights clicked on and after Stiles blinked a few times to help his eyes adjust, he saw that they’d made it to the other side of the room. Scott’s hand was still on the light switch, hovering there as he scanned the room.

There was no sign of the vampire, just old, broken crates and discarded papers littering the floor. Stiles took a deep, steadying breath.

“This hallway should lead right to the rooms they’re holding Derek in.” Stiles explained, letting go of Scott’s shoulders and giving Allison’s hand a tight squeeze before pulling away from her. “You guys should take care of that vampire. I’ll find Derek and Aria.”

“We shouldn’t split up, Stiles.” Allison warned, grabbing on to his arm before he could start on his way. He rested his hand over hers, patting it gently.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna be alone. Daniel should be somewhere in here already.” This had been the plan all along; Distraction Team, Extraction Team, and Daniel. He was the only one willing to navigate the sewer system beneath the building and come up through the ground. There was a manhole covering in the basement’s furnace room, which allowed him easy, undetected access to the building.

He was their element of surprise.

Scott and Allison still didn’t look convinced. “How can we trust him?” Scott asked and Allison nodded her agreement.

“We don’t really have any other choice Scott.” Stiles grabbed his brother’s shoulders, looking directly into his eyes. “We don’t have to trust him, okay? We trust each other, and we trust that we’re strong enough to do this and save our Alpha.”

After a short moment of silence Scott reached up and held on tight to Stiles’s hands. He gave a wordless nod and then took a step away, sniffing at the air. “She went this way,” Scott looked at Allison and she nodded.

Scott started towards a doorway on the far left side of the room; Stiles remembered from the blueprints that it led into the large storeroom. Allison followed, pausing only to press her lips against Stiles’s cheek. “Stay safe.” She whispered, and then she was striding to Scott’s side, and the both of them disappeared through the doorway.

Stiles took one final breath before he started down the hallway. He stepped lightly but quickly; every second counted.

The hall led deeper into the building, and by the time Stiles passed his fifth crossway he thanked all the gods that he’d committed the blueprints to memory. He reached the door that led to the boiler room and slowly pushed it open.

The moment Stiles slipped into the room someone grabbed him from behind, wrapping their arms under his arms and pinning him in a headlock. “What do we have here?” A deep voice rumbled, the grip tightening as Stiles struggled against the hold.

“The abominable snowman, what’re you?” Stiles asked, trying to buy himself a little time to think up a way out of this mess.

“I’m the guy about to break you in half.” The voice growled threateningly. Stiles felt the pressure building in his back – the dude was literally going to break him in half. Stiles tried to hold in the scream of pain as he felt his spinal cord creaking under the pressure, but the cry tore out of him. He closed his eyes tightly.

He knew he probably only had seconds to live, but all he could think about was Derek and Scott, and the rest who were risking their lives tonight, and he hoped they hadn’t met the same fate as him.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“Stiles?” Derek breathed out, his lungs feelings heavier than lead. His vision was beginning to blur into streaks of black and red. All of his senses seemed to magnify all at once; overwhelming him enough that the wolf inside of him was beginning to take complete control. And he wasn’t going to fight it.

Because that had been _Stiles’s scream_.

Derek didn’t know how he recognized it as Stiles’s, but it was. Stiles was here and he was in trouble. Nothing else mattered. Not the chains that bound Derek to the chair, or his psychotic uncle.

Derek strained against the chains, the metal creaking as his strength intensified with the added bonus of having pack mates nearby, and the fact that he was really, _really_ fucking pissed. He could sense them now as he shifted, the bonds growing stronger as he unleashed his wolf.

Boyd, Jackson, Scott, Allison, and Stiles. They were all here, and they all needed him.

The chains began to snap, pieces of metal clattering to the floor as he broke free with a fierce roar. The metal door swung open and Derek reacted without thinking, his animal instincts replacing his fear and anxiety.

He threw himself at the vampire that appeared in the doorway, wrapping his arms around her waist as he charged at her. He rammed her into the wall of the hallway, pinning her there with his shoulder as he reached up and grabbed a hold of her neck.

He wanted to make her _hurt_ but that wasn’t his top priority, so instead he ripped her head off with one swipe of his claws and started moving again. He could feel Scott and Allison the strongest through the bond – they were closest, and both were in some sort of distress.

If he could get to them then maybe they knew where Stiles was, and they could make their way to him together.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“Allison look out!” Scott warned her just in time – she ducked low to the ground and the crate the vampire had thrown at her smashed against the wall behind her. She knocked an arrow into the darkness in retaliation, but it exploded into bursts of white light against the far wall. The explosive arrow lit up the darkness for a few seconds before burning out, but there was no sign of the vampire.

Scott scanned the room and caught a glimpse of a retreating figure. “There!” He started after the vampire with Allison hot on his heels. They reached the end of an aisle and were just about to round the corner when suddenly a pile of boxes and crates came crashing down on top of them.

Scott reached out and pushed Allison back just in time for her to avoid the bombardment, but he got buried under the boxes.

“Scott!” He heard Allison cry out for him, fuelling his rage and need to protect her. He burst from the crates, debris and splintered wood spraying the surrounding area like shrapnel. Allison was kneeling behind one of the stone supports, guarded from the blast.

The vampire hadn’t been so lucky.

She stood hunched over a few feet away, grasping at a large piece of wood stuck deep in her chest. There was blood spewing from her mouth, and her eyes were wide with anger and terror.

Scott looked over at Allison, to see her knocking another arrow and aiming at the vampire’s head. Before she could loose it though, there was a blur of movement in Scott’s peripheral vision, and suddenly the vampire’s body collapsed to the ground.

Her head landed elsewhere.

Looming over the corpse was Derek, his eyes red and wild. “Are you guys okay?” He asked, his voice low and rough. Scott nodded, reaching out towards Allison who quickly took his hand in hers.

“We’re fine,” She answered, “We need to find Stiles. He was on his way to find Daniel and free you.”

“Where?” Derek asked sharply, his urgency to find his mate obvious.

“They were supposed to meet up in the boiler room.” Allison headed towards the nearest doorway, leading Scott along with her. “Follow me.”

She led them through the empty, darkened halls of the deserted building. As far as Scott could sense they were completely alone as they made their way through the maze of hallways. Once they reached the door that led to the stairs leading down to the boiler room, he could hear footsteps approaching.

He pulled Allison to a halt and Derek stepped out in front of them, squaring his shoulders and readying himself for whomever was approaching.

A few moments later a figure appeared in the doorway.

“So nice of you to join us,” Peter smiled insidiously, “Now we can get things started.”

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“That was a close call,” Stiles panted, leaning over and resting his hands on his knees as he tried to regain control of his lungs, “Like really, _really_ close.”

Stiles wasn’t dead. He thought he died for a split second there; the world had blacked out for a moment, but then he opened his eyes and he was standing in the boiler room _alive_ and _not dead_.

Daniel scoffed, wiping the other werewolf’s blood off of his hands. “Now we’re even.” He shrugged and Stiles frowned.

“Even?” He asked, skeptical and still a little shaken up. He’d been pretty sure Daniel hated him, and he hadn’t exactly saved Daniel from a perilous situation as far as he knew.

“Yeah, I was on my way up from the sewers and Seb was practically right on top of me. If you hadn’t come down here when you did I would’ve been dead. So thanks.” He pushed his way passed Stiles without another word.

Stiles followed close behind him, going over the blueprints in his mind and mapping out the quickest route that would take them to Derek. Unfortunately they only managed to get as far as the door, and then suddenly they were surrounded.

“Well isn’t this convenient,” Peter clicked his tongue thoughtfully and snapped his fingers. The vampires at his side charged and grabbed Daniel before he could even make a move towards them. “Here we are on our way out, and here _you_ are providing us with an alternative solution.” Peter smiled sharply, an underlying threat in his narrowed eyes. “That’s what I’ve always loved about you Stiles, you always seem to pull through right at the last moment and save everyone with your improvisations and quirky little schemes.”

“I’m sure that’ll happen when the rest of my pack shows up and we kick your werewolf ass into a pulp.” Stiles snapped, taking little comfort in Peter’s dramatic eye roll.

“The rest of your pack is probably dead by now,” One of the female vampires spat at Stiles, “My coven is stronger than any werewolf pack.”

Peter didn’t look entirely convinced, his smile pinching into a hard line. “I don’t doubt your vampires’ strength, but you shouldn’t underestimate my nephew and his companions. Once they’re determined about something they usually find a way to kill it.”

Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, by setting it on fire and burying it in the backyard. Except now we’ve learned our lesson, and dead things will _stay dead_.” They’d killed Peter before and that had been when they weren’t even united as a pack. Now they were older and more experienced, and the bond they shared granted them an even deeper sense of strength and unification that made them invincible. Especially when it meant saving the ones that they loved.

The only downfall was the fact that their love could be used against them, and Peter _knew_ that. He knew exactly what weakness to strike at.

“Okay, I get what Peter’s getting out of this, what exactly makes this worth your time?” Stiles asked the vampire, and her lips twitched.

“Peter has promised to make us werewolf warriors. My coven isn’t expendable, I need mindless animals. Peter can provide that.” She answered and Stiles felt his stomach twist into a knot. A hoard of newly turned werewolves was not something the world needed on their hands, especially if Peter was the one directing it for a bunch of Nazi vampires.

“Then I guess you chose the right guy, because Peter is out of his fucking mind already.” Stiles grumbled and Peter just ignored him.

Peter signalled for one of the vampires to grab Stiles and restrain him. “Perfect timing,” Peter muttered, tilting his head and turning to leave. Stiles struggled against the vampire’s hold on him but it was futile. He opened his mouth to scream; warn the others, but a heavy force slammed against the back of his head and suddenly everything went black.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“Where’s Aria?” Derek asked, not in any mood for his uncle’s bullshit. Peter looked thoughtful, tapping his finger against his chin as he considered. Derek wanted to kill him. Derek wanted to see his uncle’s blood drain from his face and out through a gaping hole in his throat.

“How about a trade?” Peter offered, looking as confident and smug as ever. “Our lives for Aria’s location?”

Derek snarled. “Or I could just kill you and find her myself.”

Peter clicked his tongue, looking exceptionally bored with his nephew’s threats. “I suppose you could do that, but where would that leave Stiles and the mutt?” At the sound of Stiles’s name Derek’s wolf lurched forward instinctively. He growled low, crouching down and preparing to launch himself at his uncle’s throat. “Kaleigh.” Peter called down the stairs and in a short moment a female vampire joined them, hauling Stiles’s unconscious body with her.

“Stiles!” Allison cried out, knocking her arrow and aiming at the vampire’s heart.

The vampire immediately drew her hand against Stiles’s throat, fingertips digging into his pale, freckled skin. “Make one more move and I detach his head from his body.” The vampire threatened, a malicious smile curling her lips.

“So how about it then?” Peter asked again, casually leaning against the wall with his arms folded loosely over his chest. “Stiles and Aria for our freedom.”

Kaleigh scowled at him, her lips pulling back to reveal her fangs. “We don’t need their blessing,” She spat, turning her glare on Derek, “We’ll kill them all.”

“Not so fast Kaleigh,” Peter interrupted, pushing away from the wall and resting a hand on her shoulder, “If you haven’t noticed, our side doesn’t seem to be faring well against my nephew’s pack.”

Kaleigh blinked, tilting her head towards Scott and Allison. “Where’s Vixen?” She asked, confusion and fear washing over her face. “She was supposed to kill you.” Her snarl returned, the anger overwhelming and twisting her pained expression.

“I killed her,” Derek replied, his eyes glued on Stiles’s slackened face. “And now I’m going to kill you.”

“Think about this Derek, do you really think you’re any match for me? Even with your pack, you could never fully give in to your anger and become the beast that I can.” As Peter spoke his body began to transform. He was bigger and darker; hair sprouted and limbs snapped into new angles as he morphed into his True Alpha form.

Derek knew that this was it. This was the moment that would either be his uncle’s end, or his own.

Derek let out a savage roar and lunged at his uncle with as much strength as he could muster, but it wasn’t enough. Peter knocked him back down with a swipe of his overgrown arm, and Derek barrelled into Scott, sending them both to the ground in a heap of tangled limbs. Allison got a shot off, sticking Peter’s shoulder with an arrow, but it barely fazed him.

The hallway was small and Derek had to use that to his advantage against Peter’s greater size. “Get out of here!” Derek ordered Scott and Allison once they’d gotten back up on their feet. “Find Boyd and Jackson!” Derek could still sense them a little ways off, and they were getting closer with each passing second.

They were strongest as a pack. Together was the only way they were going to make it out of this alive.

Scott didn’t hesitate, pulling Allison along with him as he fled down the hall. Derek turned back to face Peter and his heart caught in his throat.

Kaleigh’s fangs were in Stiles’s neck, blood dripping from his throat and her mouth and suddenly the stark redness of Stiles’s blood painted Derek’s vision. He howled in pain and anger; he allowed the rage to fill him, and the love he felt for Stiles to guide him. He gave in to the wolf entirely. He was the Alpha.

He could feel the change happening inside of him first, embraced it as it spread throughout his entire body. He felt stronger and faster and angry but still grounded, and all he wanted to do was crush the vampire’s head in his jaws.

So he did.

He grabbed hold of her leg before she even realized he’d moved towards her. He dragged her away from Stiles, and the moment she let go of him he pounced on her head and _crunched_.

He let the remains of her slip out of his jaw to the floor, ignoring the copper taste of blood and gore in his mouth and focused all of his attention on Peter.

Peter’s form was taller, he wrapped his arms around Derek easily, but Derek was stronger. He reared his head back and bit down hard on Peter’s shoulder, tearing at the flesh. He wanted to hurt Peter. _Hurt_ him and then _kill him_.

As Peter attempted to grapple Derek, Derek pushed against Peter’s hold, forcing him further down the hallway and away from Stiles. He pushed until he pressed Peter’s back up against the wall, and further still until the drywall crumbled and broke away completely.

They tumbled into the next room over; dust and cobwebs and debris a cloud around them as they fell. Peter’s back hit the floor first, and like a spring he used the impact to catapult Derek off of him. The moment Derek landed he righted himself and lunged at Peter’s heels, hoping to do enough damage there to knock him off balance.

His teeth sank into flesh and he ripped and tore until the hulking mass that was his uncle fell to its knees. Peter clumsily swiped at Derek, missing entirely. Derek kept at it; kept sinking his teeth in again and again wherever he could.

By the end of it Peter was a bloody mess, barely moving and minimizing back into his human form. His uncle lay there naked and covered in gashes and blood, and there was a sort of pity Derek felt for him, but justice and vengeance won out. He pressed a heavy paw down on Peter’s chest and looked him in the eyes.

“Please,” Peter rasped out, and then Derek extinguished his uncle; breaking his neck with one clean jerk and then tossed his limp body aside.

Derek trotted through the hole in the wall and back down the hallway to where Stiles still lied. He nudged Stiles with his nose, rumbling low in his chest before lying down next to Stiles. He rested his chin in the crook of Stiles’s neck and listened to his heartbeat.

It wasn’t long before Stiles finally stirred; his hand came down on Derek’s head. He stroked Derek’s fur for a moment before his hand suddenly stilled, and he lifted his head from the ground to look at Derek.

“ _Holy shit_.”

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

There was a _mother fucking wolf_ resting its head on Stiles’s chest. A _huge_ fucking _wolf_.

Stiles blinked and he pinched himself and yep, there was _still_ a wolf. With glowing red eyes. Looking directly at him.

He wasn’t sure if it was the coolest thing he’d ever experienced or the scariest. Either way he felt like he was about to pee a little.

The large wolf titled its head and leaned over just close enough that Stiles could feel its hot breath across every inch of his face. Stiles shivered, but not out of fear. A wave of comfort and safety washed over him as he looked into those red eyes, and instead of trying to wiggle his way out from under the wolf he reached up and ran his fingers through its soft fur.

He felt exhausted. His eyes barely stayed open more than a crack as he rested his head back down on the hard floor, ignoring the throbbing ache and shot of pain that coursed through his skull. They laid there for a time, but whatever rest they had was interrupted when Daniel came running up the stairs.

The wolf jumped up from Stiles, protectively standing over him and growling menacingly at Daniel. Daniel immediately submitted, falling to one knee and bowing his head. “Derek,” Daniel spoke, his tone almost reverent as he said the name. Stiles gawked.

“Wait, this is Derek?” Stiles asked, his voice cracking in the most unattractive way. Daniel frowned, looking at Stiles like it was the first time he noticed his existence.

“Who’d you think it was?” Daniel asked, clearly thinking Stiles was a complete idiot.

“Honestly I didn’t even think he was real,” Stiles rubbed at his eyes and then propped himself up on his elbows. “How’d you get away from that vamp?” Stiles vaguely recalled there being more than one vampire they had to deal with. Over his shoulder he saw the lifeless body of one, and there was this hole in the wall that hadn’t been there before, but he wasn’t going to ask.

“He took off the moment he realized all of his friends were dead.” Daniel shrugged. “I’m too tired to go after him. Besides, we should meet up with the others. I’m anxious to regroup with my pack.” Daniel stood slowly, keeping a cautious eye on Derek as he did.

Derek relaxed and stepped away from Stiles, allowing Stiles to stand as well. As he brushed off his clothes he noticed Derek’s size began to lessen, and slowly the fur receded and his form returned to normal. By the end of it Derek was hunched over and naked, breathing heavily and looking pale.

“Derek?” Stiles asked, and Derek collapsed into his arms, almost knocking them both over. Derek’s body was shivering and Stiles held on tight, burying his face in the familiar nook of Derek’s neck. “Are you okay?”

Derek’s hands wrapped around Stiles’s waist. “Yeah, just tired.” He sighed, and Stiles forgot for the moment that they’d just been through hell and back. All he wanted to do was find a bed and sleep for an entire week with Derek right beside him.

“Uh,” Daniel cleared his throat, awkwardly looking everywhere but at Stiles and Derek in their half-naked embrace. “Maybe we should find him something to wear?” Daniel paused, “Maybe Sebastian’s clothes will fit him.” Daniel disappeared down the stairs and Derek nudged Stiles’s forehead to get him to look up at him.

“I missed you,” Derek murmured, kissing softly at Stiles’s lips. Stiles’s chest swelled with emotion; his heart ached for Derek, for everything Derek had been through that Stiles wasn’t there to help with.

“I missed you too,” But it was so much more than that. Stiles loved Derek, and every moment they spent apart felt like an eternity. Being back in Derek’s arms, he felt whole.

“Here,” Daniel reappeared and tossed a pair of pants at Derek. They landed over his face and he grumbled, letting go of Stiles and pulling the jeans off his head.

“Thanks,” Derek managed to keep most of his irritation out of his voice. He slipped into the jeans with some effort on his part, and then the three of them were on their way out of the deserted building. Once they exited the building they were met by everyone; Scott, Allison, Jackson, Boyd, Patrick, and Aria. “Aria?”

“We found her on our way out,” Allison smiled, and Aria smiled politely back, “Peter took her memories, but you can get them back for her, right?”

Aria stepped forward then, a stubborn set in her jaw. “I don’t think I want to remember.” Her eyes passed between Stiles and Derek, and Stiles could see a glint of unfamiliarity. She must not have remembered meeting Stiles.

How far back had Peter delved into her mind?

“Are you sure?” Derek asked, removing his arm from where he’d slung it around Stiles’s shoulders. “Once I get back to full strength I can get them back for you.”

“I’m sure. I don’t think I could live with the pain of knowing. Of having to relive being betrayed by my uncle and losing my Alpha, and losing Lyla. The knowledge of it is hard enough, the experience could break me, Derek.” Aria replied, casting a sad glance at Daniel and Patrick. “I just… I want to go home now.”

Derek nodded and Stiles looked at all their faces; they were all tired, all of them bloodied and worn. Home sounded really, really good right about now.

“We killed the vampires outside, and the traitorous werewolf.” Patrick informed them as they made their way back to the streets where they’d parked. “I hope you lot did the same? We don’t need some sort of retaliation.”

“I killed Seb,” Daniel admitted, sounding very proud of himself, “And only one vampire got away. I’m sure he won’t be back any time soon.” Patrick gave Daniel a dark look but said nothing. They could worry about the vampire’s vengeance at a later date.

They piled into the two separate cars – one was Aria’s that they’d borrowed from her building, the other the rental van. Derek and Stiles climbed into the backseats of the van and spread themselves out. Derek leaned his head against the window and Stiles rested his in Derek’s lap.

Derek tenderly felt the back of Stiles’s head, tracing a line to Stiles's neck where two fang marks still drawing blood. “We should take you to the hospital.” Stiles rolled his eyes.

“‘M fine,” He felt a little dizzy and a lot tired, but other than that he was totally ready to take on another crazy vampire coven.

“You probably have a concussion.” Derek worried over Stiles’s head but Stiles swatted him away. "And these will need stitches."

“I said I’m fine, okay? I’ve had concussions before. Basically just wake me up every few hours. Unless I start throwing up or having severe headaches there’s no need to pay a visit to one of the weird free hospitals here, okay?” Stiles protested and Derek just smiled amiably. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Derek chuckled and began stroking Stiles’s hair away from his forehead. “You’re just ridiculous.” Stiles’s eyes narrowed in mock offense.

“No _you_ are.” Stiles retorted and crossed his arms. He stuck out his tongue and Derek scrunched his face up. They both burst out in a fit of laughter a moment later when Scott groaned.

“You’re _both_ ridiculous.” Scott whined from the front seat and Stiles sat straight up.

“Excuse _you_ , we are the only ones who get to call each other ridiculous.” Stiles said and Scott rolled his eyes. “Besides, the two of you _make me sick_.” And right on cue Allison licked her thumb and scrubbed at a bloodstain on Scott’s cheek. She looked back at Stiles, an innocent expression on her face.

“Aw, thanks babe.” Scott cooed, taking his eyes off the road to give Allison a big, wet smooch.

“Eyes on the road McCall,” Jackson growled and Scott sighed.

"We should at least patch up that bite," Derek persisted, and Allison grabbed the first aid kit out of their supply bag. She passed it into the back seat, and Derek made quick work of taping down gauze to stop the bleeding.

"Am I gonna turn into a vampire now?" Stiles asked, half-joking, half- _shitting his pants_. That's how it worked with werewolves - though he wasn't sure vampires had Alphas to do the same. Derek snorted.

"No, that's not how it works for them." Derek replied, kissing the top of Stiles's head. "No immortality for you Stiles."

Stiles pouted. "Still a bland, boring human. That's me." He mumbled. Not that he _wanted_ to be a vampire. But hey, eternal strength and young age seemed like a sweet deal.

"Boring?" Derek scoffed. "You are anything but boring, Stiles." He cupped Stiles's chin and pulled him in for a sweet kiss.

Stiles spent the majority of the ride back to Aria’s trying to will himself to stay awake. He managed it by reminding himself that he’d almost lost Derek tonight, and now here he was close and safe. Stiles never wanted to sleep again if it meant being parted from Derek a moment longer than strictly necessary.

Once they reached Aria’s they all climbed out of the van and headed up to her apartment where they met back up with Ian’s now Alpha-less pack. It was hard to see the group of them so miserable and grieving; Stiles couldn’t imagine losing any pack members, let alone three in a single week.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles said quietly to Aria. He’d gone to the kitchen to grab a drink of water and found her hunched over the counter, tears streaming down her face. As soon as he spoke she wiped her face and sniffed, straightening herself out before she turned to him with a soft smile.

“It’s not your fault,” She shrugged, and then tilted her head at him. “You’re dating my cousin.” Stiles made a strangled sound; she definitely had the Hale directness. He’d been nervous enough meeting Derek’s last non-crazy living relative before, and now he had to relive the awkward introductions. “Derek told me we met before but I don’t remember. So I guess I’ll just get this over with.” She held out her hand which Stiles tentatively took in his own. “Hi, I’m Aria. I’m a werewolf. I’ll kick your ass if you break his heart.”

“Fair enough.” Stiles smiled. Aria laughed and rested her hand on his shoulder.

“As long as you make him happy I’ll be your best friend. He needs happiness in his life. He deserves it after everything he’s been through.” Aria suddenly looked down and her face contorted with pain. Stiles didn’t even hesitate; he pulled her into a comforting hug and she buried her face into his chest.

He held her as she cried, stroking her back and silently offering her his support. He knew there was nothing he could say, he just had to be there for her.

After a time Patrick’s wife came to relieve Stiles and led Aria away into one of the more private rooms. Stiles rejoined Derek on the couch where the rest of their pack was sprawled around the room. “How is she?” Derek asked as Stiles settled in under his arm.

“She’s strong, she’ll be okay,” Stiles answered, and though he didn’t know Aria that well he could see the inner strength she possessed. She’d get through this. It would take time but she’d move passed it, just as Derek had to do when he lost his family.

They’d always carry it with them; it was an experience that would be a part of them, shape them, but it didn’t have to define them.

“I think we’re gonna head back tomorrow,” Allison said a while later. “I know it’s only been a day but I think I’ve had enough of Canada for a lifetime.” The group nodded their agreement.

“It’s not always like this,” Daniel sighed, “Usually our biggest problems consist of forgetting to buy more maple syrup.”

Patrick nodded. “That and figuring out whose going to hold the door open for whom.”

“Still,” Allison chuckled, “I’m exhausted.”

“I think we all are,” Scott added, and Stiles glanced down at his watch to see that it was almost midnight.

“It’s been a very long twenty-four hours. Maybe we should think about turning in, starting fresh in the morning.” Stiles wanted to leave the day behind him, and the rest of the room seemed to be likeminded.

Aria returned with Patrick’s wife at her side. “The kids are set up in my room, and there’s a spare room for Patrick, Daniel, Jacob, and Lauren.” Aria looked over at Derek and Stiles. “I have pillows and blankets if you want to set up in here?”

Derek nodded as he stood from the couch. “Sounds good,” He motioned for her to lead the way and everyone seemed to file out of the room, leaving Stiles, Jackson, Boyd, Scott, and Allison alone in the living room until Derek and Aria got back caring armfuls of blankets and pillows.

They set up on the floor, making a warm nest for them to sleep in cozily together. Aria lingered in the doorway as they settled in, gazing wistfully at them. “Good night,” She murmured and flicked off the overhead light.

Stiles’s eyes took a while to adjust to the darkness, but he could see her still standing there even when the rest of the pack had fallen asleep.

Derek’s arm was wrapped around Stiles’s waist, securing him there even in his unconsciousness. From somewhere in the pile of sleeping bodies, a figure slowly rose. Allison made her way over to Aria, reaching out a friendly hand.

Aria hesitated only a moment before taking it, and Allison led them into a warm space in the middle of the pack.

There was a sense of relaxation the moment she joined the group and finally, after the long, _long_ day they’d had, Stiles was able to fall asleep.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

The plane ride home went by a lot quicker than the journey had taken to get to Toronto. When the plane touched down Stiles looked up from the book he’d been reading, blinking and a little confused.

“We’re home?” He asked, setting his book down on his lap and looking over Jackson’s lap to peer out the window. Derek’s fingers laced through his and he smiled.

“We’re home.” Derek confirmed, and that was the best news Stiles had heard all year. They made it through customs and outside into the warm winter air (it was warm compared to Toronto – fucking Canada).

On the ride back to his dad’s house he could barely sit still. Derek chuckled and grabbed hold of Stiles’s leg to stop him from wiggling around so much, but he just couldn’t help it. He was excited to be back home. He was incandescently happy. Blissful, even.

The moment his dad stepped out of the house to greet him Stiles charged at him, scooping him up in his arms and giving him the biggest hug he could without completely suffocating his father.

“It’s good to see you too son,” His dad grunted as he recovered from his son’s overzealous greeting. “Maybe not excited enough to try and squeeze the life out of you though.”

“Sorry,” Stiles apologized, giving his dad’s back a careful pat, “Just happy to be home.”

“And we’re happy you’re home,” Melissa smiled, opening her arms wide. Stiles just about knocked her over with the force of his hug but they steadied themselves, laughing and smiling brightly. “I’m just glad you all made it back in one piece.”

Derek hugged the sheriff and Melissa, and then Scott and Allison were the next to greet Mama McCall and Papa Stilinski before they made their way into the house.

“When are you, Lydia, and Jackson heading back to school?” Stiles’s dad asked once they were settled back in. Stiles had been trying not to think about that; about having to leave the pack again so soon. Classes started back up at the end of the weekend and they’d have to be back there at least a day early to pick up their text books.

“Unfortunately sooner rather than later,” Stiles replied, “So probably sometime tomorrow.”

None of them brightened at the news.

“Well it’s good to have you back,” Stiles’s dad broke the lingering silence, “even if it _is_ just for a day.”

They made the most of it; they spent the morning together around the kitchen table, eating breakfast and then sharing stories of their adventures in Canada. They left out most of the gory details – Stiles didn’t need his father having a heart attack – but Stiles made a point to announce to everyone how badass Derek’s Alpha wolf form was. By noon they somehow managed to find their way into the living room.

Throughout the afternoon pack members slowly began to trickle in; Erica and Boyd, Isaac and Danny, Lydia and Jackson. By dinnertime they were all huddled around the fireplace, draped across each other’s laps and sipping hot chocolate, because you can literally never have enough hot chocolate.

They ordered half a dozen pizzas, which were completely gone by the end of the night, and then set up their fort of blankets and pillows. Having them all together again made everything feel lighter and happier, and they stayed up most of the night talking and laughing. Melissa had to come downstairs multiple times to tell them to quiet down, and they did for a time but then Isaac said something completely inappropriate and Allison smacked him with a pillow and then all hell broke loose.

There were pillows flying everywhere, smacking faces and butts and eventually Stiles’s poor aim knocked over a lamp.

Stiles’s dad came down the stairs slowly, staring directly at Stiles and his ruffled hair and the pillow in his hands because _obviously_ it had been Stiles. “It’s three o’clock in the morning and I have to work in four hours. Either go to bed or take this outside.”

“Sorry pop,” Stiles apologized feebly, and the moment papa Stilinski began making his way back up the stairs a stray pillow smacked against the back of Stiles’s head.

“Way to go Stilinski,” Jackson grumbled and there was a chorus of giggling.

Stiles turned to the face the group. “We are twenty plus year olds and we’re having a pillow fight at three in the morning.” Allison looked a little guilty but the rest of them didn’t give a single fuck.

“We should probably head to sleep now anyways,” Allison said, and slowly everyone calmed down enough that they turned off the lights and lied down side by side.

Stiles stared up at the ceiling for a long time, replaying the last month over in his head.

So much had happened; Jackson proposing, coming home to his wonderful, amazing family, Christmas, Derek, Melissa and his dad, Derek's True Alpha form – just _everything_. Despite all the hardship of the past few days, Stiles had had the best time of his life, because he was surrounded by the people that he loved.

An arm snaked around his waist and pulled him in close. Stiles turned onto his side so that he was face to face with a sleeping Derek.

It was still so unbelievable to Stiles. After everything they’d been through together they’d somehow managed to wind up here, in each other’s arms. And Stiles knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He knew that Derek still had his issues, and that Stiles still had his own shit to deal with, but the most important thing was that he knew they’d be there for one another.

They’d been growing and learning things as a pack together for years now, and they’d continue to grow closer as time went on. And that’s what Stiles looked forward to the most. All the possibilities and the adventures that they’d get to go on together, all the laughter and smiles, and alternatively all the tears and heartache.

Stiles felt honoured that Derek had chosen him, had let him see beyond the external and internal walls he’d put up to protect himself. Derek trusted him, and Stiles loved him for that.

No matter what life threw at them, they could handle together. As mates, as a pack.

As family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!!
> 
> The next chapter is going to be an epilogue (all fluff because I think that might be overdue, and I owe you guys so much) and then that'll be that!!
> 
> Thanks to all of you who've bared with me throughout this process - you're all amazing! A special thanks to laynacakes and BrynaS, without whom none of this would've even been possible. To all of you who commented or left kudos, and those of you who have been with me since the beginning of this when I started writing it over a year ago, or are just making your way through this beast of a fic now, you are all the reason I even summon enough inspiration to write. You don't know how humbled I am that you've even taken the time and energy to make it this far with me. I love you all!


	15. Epilogue

Stiles hadn’t expected to see Aria. If he’d known she was in town and on her way over to Derek’s, he probably would’ve put some clothes on. And he definitely wouldn’t have been sprawled out on the bed, completely naked with a massive bottle of lube next to him on the nightstand.

As it so happened, Stiles _didn’t_ know Aria was in town, and therefore could not correct his course.

When the door to Derek’s bedroom opened Stiles had expected to see Derek, and surprise him with all of his naked glory. Aria hadn’t expected to find his cousin’s mate lounging on Derek’s bed like a sex slave.

“ _Stilesohmygod_.” She slammed the door shut as Stiles made a choked off sound of complete horrification. He flailed to cover up his exposed parts and ended up falling off the bed and landing right on his dick.

Over the moans of pain he could hear the door creeping back open, and Derek asking, “What’s wro-.”

Stiles didn’t want to look up and face the music. He wanted to bury himself in the ground where his dignity had just gone to die.

“Stiles?” Derek asked, clearly distressed as he crossed the room and knelt by Stiles’s side. “Are you okay?”

“No,” Stiles whimpered, reaching towards the bed and pulling the sheet off of it to wrap around himself. He still had his face buried in the floor. There was a pause, and then there was a snort, and then there was laughter. “This _so_ is _not_ funny, you _asshole_.”

Derek’s hand rested lightly on Stiles’s back; a comforting weight, but he was still laughing and generally making Stiles miserable. “It kinda is.” Derek replied and gave Stiles a gentle nudge. “C’mere.” He tugged at Stiles’s shoulder until Stiles finally conceded and uncurled himself from the humiliated ball he’d rolled into.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Stiles explained as he buried his face into Derek’s neck. Stiles had finished his last exam and had come home early in the morning so he could be at Derek’s before he got home from work.

Derek chuckled, shaking his head. “And _I_ was going to surprise you with Aria.”

Stiles scoffed. “Yeah, I think it’s safe to say there’s a lot of surprise and shock going around today.” Stiles sighed, finally summoning up enough courage to lean away from Derek and look up at him. There were still traces of amusement crinkling at the corners of his eyes and quirking his lips, but there was also a fondness there that was underlying and unmistakable, bright in Derek’s eyes.

It was that look that always made Stiles feel better.

“I am so sorry Stiles,” Aria’s muffled voice sounded through the door. “I knew you were here I just didn’t know you’d be…” She trailed off and the humiliation flared up in Stiles’s stomach again, heating his face.

“Butt nekkid?” Stiles supplied, resorting to humour as was his natural defense. “Letting my boy bits blow in the breeze?”

“Well, I definitely saw your penis, so yeah.” Aria retorted, and Stiles just buried his face in Derek’s neck again because that was a warm and safe place to hide from embarrassment. “Just a glimpse though! Nothing explicit.” There was a short pause. “Not more than six inches, at least.”

“Six and a half _thank you very much_.” Stiles corrected her and Derek made an unhappy sound.

“Can we please not comment on the size of my mate’s dick?” He asked, pulling a very adorable sour face. As much as Stiles loved talking about his dick (especially with his boyfriend’s _cousin_ – _sarcasm_ ) he opted to switch subjects as soon as possible.

“So, hey, Aria,” Stiles started, “What are you doing back in Beacon Hills?”

Derek kissed the back of Stiles’s hand and rose to his feet, pulling Stiles along with him. “Get dressed and then we’ll talk.” He pecked Stiles’s forehead and then left the room, leaving Stiles standing there wrapped up in bed sheets and still trying to figure out how he could travel back in time and rewrite the last five minutes of his life.

Eventually he gave up and retrieved his clothes from the dresser in Derek’s room. Once he was fully clothed he left the room and joined Derek and Aria where they were sitting in the living room. As soon as he entered Aria rose from her seat and swept him up into a strong hug.

“I’ve missed you! Skyping just isn’t the same as the seeing you guys in person.” She set him back down and smiled warmly at him. “Although, I didn’t really expect to see _that much_ of you.” She winked at him and he groaned.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this.” It was a statement of fact. She was going to hold this over him for the rest of his life, and they both knew it. She didn’t even have to say anything.

“So what brings you back to _Amurica_?” Stiles asked, and Aria chuckled.

“I don’t know, just thought a change of scenery might be nice.” She shrugged, her lips pinching. “Enough about me though, tell me about you! You’re all finished up with your finals?”

Stiles knew she was avoiding answering his question but he let it slide for now. “Finals were hell, like usual, but I think I did well. Which might mean I did horribly. It’s kinda a fifty-fifty chance.” He and Lydia had spent an entire night in the library cramming their brains full of names and dates and theories and equations – after seeing some of the subject matter Lydia had to deal with, he thanked himself for choosing to go into Anthropology. Not that his program was easier than hers, but it definitely _was_.

“Are you happy to be home for the summer?” Aria asked, shoving in closer to him on the couch and draping her legs over his lap.

“I’m ridiculously happy to be home for the summer.” He snuck a peek at Derek to see that he was smiling over at him. “There’s no place like home.”

“Your friend Erica, she’s pregnant, right?” Aria continued, nudging Stiles to reclaim his attention.

“Uh, yeah. Yes. Seven months now. Actually, tomorrow Lydia’s throwing her a baby shower, you should totally go!” Stiles exclaimed excitedly, reaching for his phone in his pocket. “I’ll text Lydia right now!”

Aria looked a little hesitant at first; she hadn’t really been formally introduced to the pack. She’d met Boyd, Scott, and Allison while they were in Toronto but things had been a little too hectic for them to really interact enough that Aria was comfortable enough to spend time with them without having Stiles or Derek or killer vampires there as buffers. “It’s okay… I don’t want to intrude-…”

“It’s not an intrusion,” Derek interrupted her, “They’d be more than happy to include you.”

“I don’t even have a present for Erica though,” Aria bit on her lower lip anxiously, and though Stiles understood the importance of letting her do things on her on time, he felt like a little nudge wouldn’t hurt.

“Don’t worry about it, you and I can go to the mall later and pick something out.” Derek reassured her, and her smile gradually became less timid.

The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon catching up – Stiles regaled Aria with the tale of Andrew, his roommate, finally scoring with the hottie next door. It meant that Andrew had finally moved on from trying to hit on Stiles every chance he got, which was good news for Andrew if he didn’t want Derek to kick his ass.

“It has nothing to do with being possessive, okay?” Derek tried to defend himself much to the amusement of Aria and Stiles. “He blatantly disregards my entire existence, even though he knows Stiles and I are together. The last time I visited for the weekend he literally didn’t say a single word to me.”

Stiles chuckled, patting Derek’s shoulder. “Yeah, but it’s not like you went out of your way to say anything to him either.”

Derek growled, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. I’m just glad you don’t have to room with him ever again.”

“True,” Stiles agreed. Andrew wasn’t a bad guy but holy shit was he a messy roommate. “Anyways,” Stiles looked at his watch to see how late it’d gotten, “I promised my dad I’d be at his place for dinner. You two are more than welcome to join, but we can’t be late or Melissa will hit us over the head with a wooden spoon or something.”

It took some convincing but Aria finally agreed to join them – she was inherently shy, despite her strong personality, but as soon as she felt comfortable she didn’t hold back.

Stiles already knew she’d get along with everyone in the pack, especially Erica. Which could very well mean the end of the world.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“Circumcised or not circumcised?” Erica asked, and _of course_ Stiles had to walk into the room at that precise moment.

“Really?” He asked, and all four women stopped their incessant giggling and looked over at him. Allison, Lydia, Erica, and Aria were sitting on a couple of couches in the corner of Jackson’s basement. The baby shower had long since ended; there were still balloons and streamers cluttering the floor and walls, and there was a heap of gifts that Boyd and Jackson were slowly loading up into Boyd’s van.

“Speak of the devil,” Allison murmured just loud enough for Stiles to hear, and he felt his ears start to burn with a blush. He pinned Aria with a glare to hide how completely horrified he felt.

“You _told them_?” He knew introducing Aria to them had spelled certain doom. He _knew it_.

Aria bit her lower lip, looking apologetic and worried. “I may have mentioned it,” She replied meekly and Stiles made his way over to the couch so that he could throw his body into the empty space there.

“I hope you’re all happy with yourselves, laughing at my embarrassment,” Stiles leaned against Lydia as he dragged his feet up onto the coffee table.

Erica pulled an evil grin and reached over to give his cheek a hard pinch. “Oh, we are.” Stiles swatted her hand away and pouted.

“Just because you’re about to give birth to the very first Hale pack baby doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you get away with pinching my cheeks you asshole,” Stiles half-heartedly lectured her, but honestly he’d let her get away with murder. She smirked, shrugging her shoulders and leaning back comfortably in her seat.

“I gotta get all the fun in now before mini-me comes along,” Erica sighed, “If she’s going to be anything like how I was, I have it on good authority I won’t be sleeping for the next six years.”

“It’s going to be a girl?” Aria asked, and Erica nodded while the rest of them groaned.

“She _thinks_ it’s a girl, but they don’t actually know.” Lydia explained and Aria smiled politely.

“Hey, if Erica thinks it’s a girl it’ll probably be a girl. Mother’s intuition and all that.” Aria waved her hand at the expression and Erica knocked her shoulder amiably against hers.

“I like her. I think I’ll keep her.” Erica announced and Aria looked honoured. “Why didn’t we meet you sooner?”

Aria looked considering for a moment, a small frown and downcast eyes the only indication of the small sadness that question brought to her. Stiles always wondered why Derek’s only (non-psychotic) living relative hadn’t ever made the trip down to Beacon Hills when she found out that Derek survived the fire, but it wasn’t his place to question or judge.

A smile returned before anyone could notice the change in Aria’s composure and she laid a gentle hand on Erica’s shoulder. “If I had known what amazing pack mates Derek had I would have been here ages ago. I’m just glad I’m here now.”

Aria looked over at Stiles and they shared a private little smile before Erica was launching them all into another argument over the gender of her baby.

“If you’re carrying low, it’s a boy. Higher means it’s a girl,” Erica persisted, rubbing her belly. Stiles wasn’t sure what qualified as ‘high’ or ‘low’, all he saw was a round belly the size of a small planet.

“Whether you’re carrying lower or higher doesn’t imply anything about the baby’s gender, just the tone of your muscles and the position the baby’s in.” Lydia countered and Erica rolled her eyes. “Your weight gain during pregnancy and your body shape also determine that, not the sex of your unborn child.”

“What about if you start craving sour stuff? That’s how my mom knew I was going to be a girl,” Allison added and Erica snapped her fingers.

“I made Boyd go buy me sour patch kids last night.” She and Allison high-fived while Lydia took a deep, calming breath.

“Your hormones are altered by the pregnancy, which increases your sense of smell and ultimately leads you to crave whatever food you’ve caught the scent of.” Lydia explained with a bored wave of her hand. Stiles tilted his head.

“Wait, so Erica has a _super_ supernatural sense of smell now?” Stiles asked, his mind reeling at the possibilities. He was scanning the room for a possible blindfold when Erica scrunched up her face.

“That explains why I can’t go anywhere near Derek’s room now. All I can smell is sex and lube.” Erica whined and Stiles just gave up. He buried his face in his hands while the girls started their giggling. “Anyways, my super-smell is telling me it’s a girl. She smells like rainbows and butterflies and estrogen.”

“Nope, sorry, that was me. I just farted.” Stiles grumbled and Lydia nudged him hard in the shoulder.

“Look, there’s only one sure-fire way to tell if it’s a girl or a boy, and that’s an ultrasound. And since you and Boyd wanted it to be a surprise you won’t get to know what it is until it’s out of your uterus.” Lydia said seriously and Stiles had just about had enough.

“Okay,” He stood from the couch, taking large steps to the other side of the room, “You said the magic word now watch me disappear.”

“What word’s that?” Isaac suddenly appeared in front of Stiles, peeking over his shoulder into the room. Stiles wanted to warn him, he really did, but the moment Isaac stuck his head into the room that was it. Game over.

“Uterus,” Erica informed him, and suddenly Isaac was turning on his heels and walking the other way.

“Nope.” He muttered, disappearing up the stairs without a single look back.

Stiles was about to follow suit when Aria walked up behind him, tugging on his wrist. “Who _was_ that?” She asked, her voice close to reverence. Stiles blinked, unfamiliar with the tone and the way Aria’s eyes were wide with wonder.

“Isaac. You haven’t met Isaac yet?” Stiles asked and Aria shook her head. He pulled a face and patted her on the back. “Oh, you’ve gotta meet Isaac, he’s great. Really great.” He nudged her towards the stairs, leading her up and through the house until the met up with Isaac, Boyd, and Jackson at the front door. “Isaac, this is Aria, Derek’s cousin from Canada.”

Isaac looked over and visibly froze, staring at Aria with half-parted lips until Stiles frowned and cleared his throat. “Uh, hi.” Isaac said, holding out a shaky hand. Aria smiled and placed her hand in his. The two of them stared at each other until Jackson hip-checked Isaac.

“Stop drooling Lahey,” Jackson grumbled and Isaac flinched. He blushed, finally releasing Aria’s hand and ducking his head.

“Sorry,” He mumbled, shaking his head like he was resetting his brain. “Nice to meet y-you,” He stuttered, and behind him Boyd stifled a chuckle, “I should get going though. I just came by to drop off a gift for the baby.”

“What’s the rush?” Lydia’s voice sounded behind Stiles from inside the house and he nearly had a heart attack.

“Where the hell did you come from?” Stiles asked, clutching a hand to his chest over his jack-hammering heart. Lydia blatantly ignored him, keeping her sharp eyes trained on Isaac. There was something in her gaze that unsettled Stiles’s stomach and it wasn’t even pinned on him.

“No rush,” Isaac said, nervously licking his lips, “I just,” He paused, glancing at Aria with a slight frown, “I was going to head over to the cemetery to visit my mom.” Lydia’s gaze softened, a small smile spreading on her lips.

“Oh,” She paused and Boyd rested a comforting hand on Isaac’s shoulder.

“Do you want any company?” Boyd asked, but Isaac shook his head and shrugged Boyd’s hand away from his shoulder. He began making a swift retreat back towards the space he’d parked his car, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

“Thanks, but I think I’m good to go alone this time. I’ll see you guys later,” He fumbled to retrieve his keys from his pocket, but once he unlocked his door he looked over at the group of them once more. His cheeks were tinted pink, as were the tips of his ears. “It was nice to meet you Aria." 

Aria smiled politely but avoided meeting Isaac’s gaze. “Nice to meet you too,” She said quietly, and a similar blush began to brighten her cheeks.

The moment Isaac pulled out of the driveway Lydia’s arm was linked through Aria’s and she was leading her back into the house. “Are you single?” Lydia asked and Stiles stumbled after them.

“Lydia, no.” He ground out, but she ignored him completely. Aria shot Stiles a frightened look but Lydia pressed onwards.

“How long are you planning on staying in California for?” Lydia asked when Aria gave a small shake of her head to signal that no, she didn’t have a mate or a partner to speak of.

“I’m not sure. I still have to talk to Derek about it.” She replied, her eyes downcast on the floor. There was a sadness in her voice; a tremor of sorrow that didn’t go unmissed by Stiles. He wanted to reach out, let her know that he was there if she needed to talk, but Lydia had already led them around the corner into the kitchen.

“We’re going for coffee.” Lydia announced, grabbing her purse off the kitchen counter and not pausing once on her determined stride towards the back door. Aria was dragging after her, looking completely unsure if she should be afraid or not.

She should be afraid. _Very afraid_.

“Tell Erica and Allison that we’ll be back later.” Lydia called over her shoulder before disappearing with Aria out the door.

Stiles regretted not warning Aria about Lydia and her scheming sooner, but it was too late now. Whatever Lydia was conspiring to do was probably unstoppable anyways.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“Is my baby going to have claws?” Erica asked as she rested her head on Derek’s chest. The two of them were lying together on the couch; she was using Derek as a body pillow, the position lending her some comfort.

Derek snorted, shaking his head. “No, your baby isn’t going to come out with claws or fangs or anything wolfy.”

Erica was quiet for a time, tracing her finger across Derek’s shoulder. “Is it going to _be_ a wolf?” She sounded worried and a little afraid, and Derek didn’t blame her. She wasn’t born a werewolf, she was bitten. She wouldn’t have any experience or wisdom about raising a werewolf pup, and being a first time mother was stressful enough without the limitless risks of having a little werewolf running around.

Derek stroked at Erica’s hair, kissing the top of her head to try and soothe the anxious energy that radiated from her. “I don’t know. There’s a chance it might be, but there’s a chance it won’t. You were bitten so you still have a bit of human in you, just like Boyd. I don’t know the science or anything, but that little bit of human might be enough to create a little human instead of a wolf. We won’t know until the baby’s third year.”

Erica nodded but remained silent. Derek couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through her head, so he asked her.

“I’m just… I’m worried, y’know? On the one hand I love being a wolf. I love that I’m healthy and happy and strong. But…” She trailed off, shrugging a little. “What if another band of hunters comes through town? What if I can’t teach my baby how to control the shift and they _kill_ someone?” She shuddered, burying her face into Derek’s shoulder.

Derek frowned and looked down at her. “Hey,” he nudged her until she looked up at him, “That’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know?” She snapped, her eyes watery and her lips trembling.

Derek took a deep breath and placed his hand under Erica’s chin. “I know because you have us Erica. The pack. And we’re going to be here to help you every step of the way. This kid’s going to have an entire family looking after it.” She began to relax a little, but she still wasn’t completely convinced. “Look, if _Stiles_ managed to teach _Scott_ how to control it, clearly there’s hope if both you and Boyd are going to be there for the little guy.”

Erica giggled, letting out a small sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” They let silence settle comfortably between them, the background noise of the television the only thing breaking the quiet. “So how is Stiles?” She asked suddenly and Derek tilted his head at her.

“You saw him this morning?” Derek distinctly remembered having to physically separate the two of them after Erica had given Stiles a wet willy.

Erica waved her hand, smacking him on the chest. “That’s not what I mean. How are things between you and him?” She asked and Derek finally understood.

“Why couldn’t you just phrase it that way to begin with?” He asked, and received another heavy smack for his efforts. He sighed, grabbing hold of Erica’s hand and restraining her before there were any more future attempts of hitting him. “Things are good. _Really_ good.”

“Are you happy?” Erica continued her line of questioning.

Derek chuckled, nudging his chin against her forehead. “Of course I am. Isn’t it sorta… obvious?” Whenever Derek was around Stiles he just felt _lighter_.

There had been a time in his life where he’d never imagined he deserved to be this happy, but Stiles had proved him wrong. Like he usually did.

“Yeah, I just wanted to make sure though. You’re my best friend Derek, and I know you’re Alpha but you’re not indestructible and your emotions run really deep. I love Stiles but I’ll still kick his ass if he hurts you.” She declared and he rolled his eyes.

“Thanks, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Derek assured her and she nodded to herself.

“Good.” Derek gave her hand a tight squeeze. “So, Deaton and Melissa have volunteered to be on-call for me when the baby comes.” There had been some controversy surrounding how Erica was going to deliver; traditionally werewolf mothers delivered the babies in the pack den to avoid any danger of wolfing out in front of a human with no prior supernatural experience. Boyd had tried to insist on a hospital delivery because it was safer for the baby, but the rest of the pack was divided in their opinions on the subject.

“You’re having the baby at home?” Derek asked, his eyes widening with surprise. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”

Erica shrugged. “Same. I haven’t actually said it aloud yet, but it feels right. I’d rather have Alan and Melissa deliver me than a human who might see me wolf out and then faint or something. Not really a great way to bring my baby into the world.”

Derek nodded. “It’s probably for the best. Deaton and Melissa are both capable, strong people.”

“Yeah,” Erica began to hoist herself up into a seated position, rubbing at her belly. “I want what’s best for this kid. She – or he, it doesn’t really matter honestly – is going to be my everything. I’m going to love this kid with everything I’ve got. Even if this wasn’t planned, it was meant to be.” Her eyes began to water and there was a genuine and warm smile spread on her lips. “Be right back I gotta piss.” She stood and Derek laughed, shaking his head.

“Always classy,” Derek smirked and she flipped him off.

“Never trashy, bitch.” She winked at him, and then slipped around the corner.

Derek smiled. She was going to be an amazing mother.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫ 

Isaac wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up seated across from Aria at the local diner, but he wasn’t going to question it.

The moment he’d laid eyes on her, he just _knew_. Ever since he got turned there was this feeling inside of him that he’d never experienced before – it was like a raw ache; an empty space that struggled to fill itself, but could never quite get it right.

Aria was the piece he’d been searching for all along, without even realizing that he’d been searching for anything in the first place.

“Lydia’s supposed to meet me here,” Aria was blushing – the way she fumbled and tried to hide her face behind her hair was probably one of the most adorable things in the entire world, Isaac decided. “Is she usually late?”

Isaac finished taking a sip from his tea and set the mug down on the table in front of them. “No actually, she’s usually half an hour early.” He frowned, pulling out his phone and shooting a text Lydia’s way to make sure nothing bad had happened to her on her way into the diner. Not a minute later his phone vibrated and he read her response.

**_Lydia:_ **

**I have given you the perfect opportunity to get to know Aria better.**

Isaac stared at his screen, a confused and uncertain frown crossing his features.

**_Lydia:_ **

**You can thank me later.**

After a short moment of contemplation Isaac’s mouth drew open in horror at the realization that he’d fallen into Lydia’s trap.

“What’s wrong?” Aria asked, and suddenly her hand was resting atop Isaac’s on the table. “Is Lydia okay?”

Isaac scoffed, slipping his phone back into his pocket and allowing himself a moment of self-pity. Lydia’s scheming was usually directed at everyone else in the pack – she respected Isaac enough not to meddle with his personal affairs. Or, at least, he thought she did.

“She’s fine,” He muttered, sighing a little. “I don’t think she’s coming though.” He stared down at the table, praying that he’d figure out how to handle this unwarranted mess of a situation Lydia had gotten him into. When he looked back up he saw that Aria was beginning to pack up her things and slip her coat over her shoulders. “No, wait,” He reached out for her but his hand wavered in midair.

She paused. “Are you okay?” She looked worried now, frightened almost.

Isaac swallowed the lump in his throat and licked at his parched lips. “I’m okay,” He paused to gather his courage, “I just thought you might want to stay.” When she didn’t say anything he kicked himself internally. “I mean, not that you _want_ to stay, because you barely know me, but,” His words were choppy and clumsy, and with a final breath he said, “ _I_ want you to stay. The company would be nice.”

She smiled and slowly settled back into the booth. When the waitress came around Aria ordered a slice of apple pie and a scoop of ice cream, which made Isaac smile in a way he thought he couldn’t.

Conversation between the two of them was slow at first – it was hard to feel entirely comfortable when your stomach was doing little flips and your heart was fluttering. Once they got formalities and small talk out of the way and Isaac cracked a terribly bad joke, things started to feel more at ease.

She shared a few stories about Derek; about how when he was younger he used to chase all the younger cousins around the expansive acreage of the Hale property. She recalled how Derek had been a brother-figure to her, which prompted Isaac to tell her of his own brother, who was no longer with them anymore.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” Aria spoke softly, and as she held onto Isaac’s hand she stroked soothing circles and attempted to pull his pain from him. “And your mother.” Isaac could see the faint blackness of his pain transferring out of him through her touch, and he shuddered. He closed his eyes and focused on the feel of her skin against his; no matter how small the contact was, it felt infinite.

“Thanks, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to. Not since the pack came together.” He paused, placing his free hand over hers. “I think the worst part was the loneliness. And the fear.”

“Fear?” She asked; her voice barely above a whisper. He met her solemn gaze and smiled reassuringly.

“After we lost her, my dad sort of… snapped.” It was still hard to admit the darkness that followed his mother’s passing. It was hard to remember a time when his father didn’t drink; but there _had_ been a peaceful time. A moment where his father opened his arms to hug instead of hit.

But that was too far back for Isaac to remember clearly.

“There was a lot that he couldn’t handle. He wanted to save my mom but he couldn’t. No one can really beat cancer, so after she died and he drank to forget who he was, he just beat me instead.” Isaac explained and Aria froze; a steely glare like ice in her eyes. “I think it was about control for him. He felt helpless and small, and he was always paranoid that cancer would get him next.”

“That’s no excuse.” She growled, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Family is the most important thing in the world. When they get knocked down you help them stand back up and brush themselves off, not kick them while they’re defenseless and broken.”

Isaac shrugged. “I agree. But I had to come to terms with who he was before I could start to heal. My dad died after Derek turned me, and even with all this new strength and power I was still afraid of him, even as they lowered his corpse into the ground.”

Aria was silent for a long time before she looked back up at Isaac with watery eyes. “You lost your entire family?” She asked, and he nodded his reply. She looked down at where their hands still rested on the table; both his hands swallowing hers up. “No one should ever experience pain like that.”

Isaac could see the pain in her eyes – a mirror of his own. She’d lost her family too, and now she’d lost her Alpha.

They sat in solemn silence for a while, even after the waitress had made her rounds and refilled their drinks twice.

Finally Isaac checked the time on his phone and leaned closer to Aria across the table. “It’s going to be dark pretty soon, but I was going to visit the cemetery.” He paused, giving himself a moment to scan her expression for signs of withdrawal or hesitance at what he was going to suggest next. “Do you want to join me?”

She thought for a moment, but slowly she nodded. “Yeah,” She smiled, “I think it’s about time I paid my respects to my family, considering I haven’t visited their graves in over seven years.”

Isaac paid the bill and they hopped into his car. When he pulled into the cemetery’s parking lot he turned the engine off and turned to her. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

She set her jaw in that stubborn way Hale’s do and reached over to thread her fingers through Isaac’s. “As long as I’m not alone, I’m ready.” And then together they ventured out and into the sea of gravestones. 

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫ 

**_Lydia:_ **

**You took her to a graveyard.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**You took her to a graveyard on your first date.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**You are going to die alone.**

**_Isaac:_ **

**First of all, I’m pretty sure you ditching her is worse than me taking her to a graveyard.**

**_Isaac:_ **

**Secondly, that was by no means a first date.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Yeah, but it could have been if you had taken her to the movies, or just kissed her goodbye after the diner. Instead you killed any chance you had when you took her to a place full of dead things. Congratulations.**

**_Isaac:_ **

**Well, I don’t think she minded, Lydia.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Unless she’s secretly some kind of Penny Dreadful Goth who gets off on being surrounded by gloom and doom, I’m pretty sure she minded.**

**_Isaac:_ **

**Well I’m with her right now. She says she didn’t mind.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**You’re with her right now?**

**_Isaac:_ **

**Yeah. We’re on our first date right now, which is how I know last time wasn’t our first date.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Good. No graveyards this time.**

**_Isaac:_ **

**Wasn’t planning on it. We’re heading over to the park. I’m going to show her where I stash my dead ant collection.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**You are hopeless.**

**_Isaac:_ **

**I’m also kidding. Now leave us alone and pester Stiles or something.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**Fine, but she’ll tell me about it later.**

**_Isaac:_ **

**No she won’t. And don’t tell Derek about this, okay? You know how… protective he gets about these things.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**If you don’t tell me how it goes I’ll make something up to tell Derek, but if you tell me then I won’t have to make anything up to tell anyone. Understood?**

**_Isaac:_ **

**You are the devil incarnate.**

**_Lydia:_ **

**I’ll take that as a yes. Have fun you two ;) xoxo**  

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

It happened when the pack was gathered in Derek’s apartment, squished together tightly on the couches and sprawled across the floor. They’d been home for part of the summer now – it was early July. They were gathered in the apartment to celebrate the upcoming due date; Erica was officially one week away from delivering her baby.

Erica had gotten up from her seat next to Aria on the couch to go to the washroom, and then suddenly moments later she was clutching at her monstrous baby bump and leaning against the wall to support herself.

Boyd was up so fast he’d probably broken the sound barrier as he moved to Erica’s side. “What’s wrong?” He reached out towards her but she swatted his hands away.

“ _Fuck_ ,” She growled, doubling over as far as her bump would allow her. “It feels like my vagina is being torn apart right now, and not even in a good way.” Erica whimpered, rubbing at her belly before looking up to level them all with a serious gaze. “I think I’m in labour.” The whole room seemed to freeze.

Stiles blinked. “Wait, there’s a _good_ way to have your vagina torn apart?” There was a moment of silence and then suddenly Erica let out a roar.

“ _I just told you douche bagels that I am in labour and all of you twat melons have not even reacted how the fuck have you survived this long you are werewolves and your reaction time sucks the biggest amount of dicks I have ever seen!_ ” And just like that the entire room exploded with excitement and movement while everyone snapped out of their shock.

“I’ll get my mom and Deaton on the phone,” Scott called.

“I’ll grab the blankets and towels!” Isaac added.

“I’ll help Isaac grab the blankets and towels!” Aria followed after him quickly.

“We’ll clear this space,” Jackson ushered everyone away from the center of the living room and Allison and Lydia began to push the table and couches against the walls.

“I’ll try not to vomit.” Stiles concluded, feeling the sudden impact of stress and anxiety that always accompanied the idea of childbirth.

“Great, and I’ll just be over here,” Erica panted, a hand now resting on her lower back, “Trying to deliver a baby and simultaneously not wolf out while doing so.” Boyd kissed her lightly on the forehead, gently resting his hand on her elbow and guiding her towards the space they were clearing in Derek’s living room.

“Deaton’s on his way, and my mom’s leaving the hospital now.” Scott rejoined them and Isaac and Aria appeared in the hallway, their arms full of any blankets and towels they could find.

They went to work creating a cozy nest out of the blankets, while every five minutes or so Erica would clutch Boyd’s arm and dig her claws into him. Yes, _claws_. Her eyes glowed a warm yellow and her claws had extended, but she was managing the shift better than Stiles thought she would.

Once they finished, Boyd and Derek helped Erica nestle in, resting her on her back and wedging a pillow underneath her hips to keep her from lying completely flat against the ground.

“Good, perfect,” Scott was saying as he rounded her, “This position should keep the vena cava from being compressed.” He knelt down at the bottom of Erica’s legs, giving her a sympathetic and sheepish smile. “Alright Erica, I’m going to need you to spread your legs for me.”

“Scott, please stop hitting on the love of my life and mother of my child.” Boyd deadpanned, and Stiles found it really hard not to laugh at the mortified expression on Scott’s face.

“I need to check how far she’s dilated.” Scott explained and Boyd gave a silent nod.

Erica conceded, spreading her legs wide while Scott look a nice long look at whatever hell was happening in her nether regions. When he peered back up his face was a few shades paler but he was managing to hold it together.

“Alright, she’s about four to five centimeters already,” He announced. “I need everyone, except Boyd, to wait out in the hallway, or another room. Just leave. We need space and quiet so Erica can relax.”

Erica’s claws dug into the floorboards and she let out another angry howl. “ _Relax_?” She asked, biting off the word with a menacing growl. Scott made a small _meep_ sound and everyone made their exit before all of her pregnant, about-to-give-birth rage could be directed at them.

They all filed out of the apartment one by one into the hallway. Once the door was shut Stiles slouched against the wall, sliding down to the ground where he placed his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He felt a hand fall onto his knee, and a mass plopping down beside him, knocking into his shoulder.

There was a heavy sigh. “We’ve done all that we can for now. Melissa and Alan should be here soon, and then it’s up to Erica and them.” Derek murmured, leaning against Stiles and resting his head on Stiles’s shoulder. He let his weight fall against Stiles; Stiles noticed the tightness of stress in his shoulders so he wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close.

He pressed his lips against Derek’s temple, delivering a soft kiss to try and chase some of the anxiety away. “Don’t worry, they’re gonna get here and she’s gonna have a beautiful baby and our pack’ll be one little person bigger by the end of the day, alright? There’s only smooth sailing from here on out.”

As Stiles finished his short speech there was an enormous roar that shook the walls and floor.

Derek blinked at Stiles. “Smooth sailing… right…”

Melissa and Alan arrived together fifteen minutes later. The moment the elevator doors dinged open they were briskly making their way towards Derek’s apartment. Derek stood, opening the door for them and the two of them filed in. “They’re in the living room.” Melissa nodded her thanks and then the door closed behind them.

“Now we play the waiting game…” Stiles murmured. He stood and joined Derek, who’d started pacing the length of the hallway.

They all mostly remained quiet – the wolves in the pack were intent on listening in to whatever was going on in Derek’s apartment. Since Stiles didn’t have the luxury of eavesdropping with super hearing, he decided to plop down on the floor in between Isaac and Aria.

“I hate waiting,” Stiles nervously jiggled his leg up and down, biting on his lower lip and shaking his head, “Time just slows down and everything gets excruciatingly drawn out. And then your thoughts just get louder and louder and basically you go insane because _fuck waiting_. Am I right?” When no one responded he kept going. “That’s why I wanted to be like Quicksilver – not Flash, because DC sucks – that way I’d be able to just pass time by as fast as possible.”

Aria made a humming sound, which Stiles took as consent to keep talking.

“Wait, maybe not. Now that I think of it, if I’m moving as fast as Quicksilver everything else would seem really slow. Slower than this. Which seems impossible, but-,” And then suddenly everyone snapped at him.

“ _Stiles_.” They growled in unison, and he slammed his mouth shut.

Ten minutes later the elevator door dinged to signal a new presence entering the floor. Everyone was on guard until they realized it was Stiles’s dad. He approached them, a forlorn frown creasing his features.

“We’ve had several complaints about an unusual noise disturbance from your apartment Derek.” He paused, glancing at everyone with a curious tilt of his chin. “I came to see if everything’s alright. So, what’s going on? A rabid werewolf? A screaming banshee? A dragon?”

“Erica’s in labour.” Stiles supplied, and there was a silent moment that passed before the sheriff shrugged.

“That was my next guess.” The sheriff radioed into the station that he was taking care of the problem, and then informed them he would be tied up with the disturbance for a while longer. Aria scooted over to allow him to sit down next to his son and he silently waited with the rest of them, in what Stiles liked to refer to as pregnancy purgatory.

Stiles spent the next _ten hours_ jiggling his legs up and down – anticipating the moment someone would open the door and tell them that the baby and Erica were both healthy and resting. They took breaks – Isaac and Aria volunteered to go get some pizza when the pack grew restless and hungry. They chattered and went for short walks around the neighbourhood.

By the eleventh hour Stiles was ready to barge in there and deliver the baby himself; but the werewolves in the group suddenly and in unison snapped their attention towards the door, their heads tilted with narrow eyes and pursed lips.

“What is it?” Stiles asked as he struggled to push off the floor and stand. The stagnant silence continued even as he pressed his ear up against the wall next to the door. “Did something happen? Is Erica okay?”

Derek joined Stiles’s side, wrapping his hand around Stiles’s wrist and gently tugging him away from the door. He pulled Stiles into a warm, encompassing hug and buried his face in Stiles’s hair. “She’s okay. They’re _all_ okay. The baby’s crying up a storm in there.”

Stiles let the news sink in as he clutched on to Derek’s shoulders. “So everything’s good?”

Derek nodded, pulling away so he could flash a bright grin at Stiles. “Better than good. Our pack has officially added one little person into its ranks.”

Stiles didn’t necessarily understand what it was like to be a werewolf, or to be an Alpha of a werewolf/human pack, but he got the sense that Derek was feeling incandescently happy in that moment.

Melissa emerged soon after, her face worn and tired; Stiles could only imagine how Erica looked after giving birth. “Erica is resting now, and Boyd is with her. The baby is healthy. You’ll have to wait a while before you can go in and see them.”

After a time Deaton emerged and announced that once they washed up and sanitized themselves, they’d be allowed two in at a time to greet the new baby. Derek, being the Alpha, got first dibs, which meant Stiles piggybacked those first dibs and was among the first to see the baby and the two very exhausted new parents.

“I was right,” Erica smiled, “She’s a girl. A beautiful baby girl.” Boyd rolled his eyes at Erica’s _I-told-you-so_. “I saw that.” She warned. Boyd gave her an apologetic kiss on the forehead while Stiles wondered how Erica had managed to see anything since her eyes were closed.

Erica was holding onto her little bundle of baby, rocking her gently and lulling herself into sleep as she did so. Boyd rested his hand on her shoulder and her eyes fluttered open. “Can Derek and Stiles see her?”

Reluctantly Erica let Boyd scoop the baby out of her arms and placed her gently in Derek’s arms.

At first Derek looked uncomfortable, but Boyd repositioned Derek’s hands so that he was supporting the baby in all the proper places, and the baby seemed to settle in easily. “We named her Alicia,” Erica informed them after a sleepy yawn, “in memory of Boyd’s sister.”

“Alicia,” Derek repeated, and he smiled down at her with love and admiration radiating off of him in waves. “I love it. I love _her_. She’s perfect.” Stiles was pretty sure that if he had ovaries, they’d be swooning at the sight of Derek right about then.

They spent a while in silence; Derek gently rocked her in his arms to lull her to sleep. After a time Derek passed her to Stiles, and Stiles understood the well of emotions that Derek had experienced, holding on to Alicia for the first time.

She was pure and innocent, and a sign of healthy prosperity. The pack was safe and healthy, and it was growing. And Stiles had one more person to love and protect now, and that was a gift all in itself.

Once they decided it was time to give some of the others a chance to meet Alicia before Erica passed out, Stiles gave her a light kiss on the forehead and returned her to Erica’s arms. Derek knelt down beside Erica and Boyd and looked into their eyes. “I’m so proud of both of you.” He gave Erica’s free hand a tight squeeze and patted Boyd on the shoulder.

Together, Stiles and Derek left the apartment and told the next group of two to head on in, which happened to be Allison and Scott.

“What is it?” Lydia asked.

“A girl.” Derek answered as he leaned against the wall and pulled Stiles in next to his hip. “Her name is Alicia.”

“Yeah, and she’s already got the Alpha wrapped around her tiny finger.” Stiles teased him and Derek rolled his eyes, but he didn’t dispute it.

“That’s such a beautiful name,” Aria smiled and the rest of them agreed all at once.

“Well,” Derek said, sighing a little, “It’s been a long couple of days. I think I could use a bit of shuteye.” Stiles nodded his agreement. “We’re going to head inside. Erica and Boyd and Alicia are going to stay the night in the spare room. Melissa’s going to stay in the living room with the baby. Is it okay if Aria stays with you, Lydia and Jackson?”

Lydia was about to answer when suddenly Isaac inserted himself into the conversation. “Why doesn’t she stay with me tonight? It’s going to be pretty quiet at the house, since Erica and Boyd aren’t there.”

Suddenly Lydia’s eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “Excellent idea! We’re actually remodeling all of our spare bedrooms, so Aria would probably be more comfortable with Isaac.”

Jackson was about to say something when Lydia jabbed him in the gut with her elbow.

Derek frowned and Stiles watched Isaac carefully. Aria had grown quiet from where she’d hidden herself behind Lydia.

After a long pause Derek’s eyebrow slowly raised. “I guess that’s an option, if Aria wants to.”

All eyes turned to Aria, forcing her out of her withdrawn position. “I’m okay with that, if it’s not too much trouble.” Her voice was quiet but she nodded resolutely.

“Alright then, it’s settled,” Lydia exclaimed excitedly, “Aria will spend the night with Isaac.”

Isaac and Lydia exchanged a glance before he turned to look at Aria. There was definitely something going on there, and if Lydia was involved it was probably something devious.

Stiles didn’t want to know.

When he and Derek re-entered the apartment they bypassed the living room and went directly into Derek’s bedroom, where they proceeded to flop down on the bed.

“That was…” Derek trailed off and Stiles shifted so that his body was turned into Derek’s. After a few moments of silence Derek finished, “ _Exhausting_.”

Stiles chuckled and buried his face in Derek’s shoulder, nudging until he was comfortable and content. “Yeah, and we weren’t even the ones giving birth. I can only imagine how tired Erica is.”

“I’m sure as soon as everyone leaves, Boyd and her will pass out. I’m glad Scott’s mom agreed to stay and watch over the baby tonight, to give them a break.” Derek’s eyes were shut and his voice had grown low and grumbly with sleepiness. Stiles tilted his head and kissed Derek’s chin, and then nestled in for the night.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“Be honest son,” Stiles’s dad turned away from the mirror to face him, “How do I look?" 

The sheriff was dressed in a sleek, black suit. The fit seemed snug, clinging to certain places (Stiles didn’t want to comment on how good his father’s ass looked; because no – though he was sure Melissa was going to appreciate it) but overall it made his dad look sharp and sophisticated.

“You look good pops,” Stiles patted his father on the shoulder and gave him an encouraging smile. “Melissa’s a lucky woman.”

“And I’m a lucky man,” His dad returned the smile before turning back around to face his reflection in the full-length mirror. “I can’t believe I’m getting married again.”

Stiles chuckled, “Yeah, me either. But I’m glad you are. I’m sure mom’s watching over us, standing by both of you. She loved you, and I’m positive she loves Melissa too.” Though Melissa and Claudia hadn’t known each other for long before she passed away, Claudia had spent a lot of time with her when Stiles went over to the McCall house for play dates.

There had been a warm friendship blossoming, and Stiles thought that his mother respected Melissa in a way that helped make this all a little easier.

“I’m happy you’re here, son,” His dad looked at him through the reflection of the mirror, “I’m so proud of you. I’m just… Thank you. For supporting me.”

Stiles grabbed a hold of his father’s shoulder and turned him around to pull him into a hug. “Always. As long as it makes you happy.”

Stiles’s dad returned the hug with equal vigor. “Curly fries make me happy.” It sounded like a pout. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“You’re not allowed eating curly fries. You’ve gotta watch your cholesterol. When I get married I want you to be there with me, not fending off a heart attack at the hospital.” Stiles’s dad pulled away, looking Stiles straight in the eyes.

“I didn’t know you and Derek were already thinking about marriage.” His dad looked genuinely confused and curious about the idea, whereas Stiles felt a wave unanticipated surprise. Derek and him hadn’t ever really talked about marriage, and it wasn’t like Stiles _didn’t_ want to marry Derek… but it still caught him a little off guard.

“Okay,” Stiles shook his head a little to jumpstart his brain, “How about we worry about getting _you_ to the alter before you start shoving me down the aisle towards Derek.” His dad just shrugged, an innocent smile masking the underlying smugness radiating from him.

There was a knock on the door before Stiles could physically wipe his father’s shit-eating grin off of his face. “Hey, can I come in?” Scott poked his head inside the door and Stiles’s father beckoned him inside. “My mom said she’s ready to do this if you are.”

Stiles watched a wave of anxiety cross over his dad’s features, but as soon as it passed there was a peacefulness and contentment that Stiles had only started observing when his dad and Melissa had begun seeing each other.

He patted Scott on the back and smiled at his two sons. “I couldn’t be prouder.” He smiled, warmth radiating from him and tugging at Stiles’s emotions without warning. He could feel his throat beginning to clench as he fought back the wetness in his eyes. He cleared his throat and nodded at his dad.

“After you.” Stiles waved his hand towards the door and his father took a deep breath, and then he took his first step towards the woman he loved, and the future they were about to share.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“This is… kind of a really big step, don’t you think?” Isaac asked, and he could feel his collar tightening around his neck with each passing breath, like a noose. He yanked at it and reminded himself that if his heart rate got out of control he’d wolf out and end up with bigger issues to deal with than facing Derek right now.

Aria shrugged and put on her best innocent expression as she knocked on Derek’s apartment’s front door. “I’m ready for it,” She paused to side eye him, “That is, if _you_ are.”

Isaac swallowed hard. After a short moment he nodded, scrounging up any last reserves of courage he could muster. 

The moment Derek opened the door, wearing one of his darkest, meanest scowls, Isaac could feel his nerves crawling back inside of him and dying immediately.

“Derek,” Aria sounded strained; she clearly had hoped to catch him in a brighter mood.

He grunted and kicked the door open before lumbering back into the gloom murkiness of his apartment. All the lights were off, save for the flickering of the television screen.

After they exchanged a look – Isaac was scared shitless and Aria gave him a highly unsympathetic eye roll – they followed Derek to where he plopped down on his couch and curled up into one of his knit blankets. It was a comical sight to see Derek rolled up like a taco, pouting and glaring at the TV.

Aria sat down at his feet and patted his legs consolingly. “What’s wrong, cousin?" 

Derek sighed; at first Isaac was sure he was about to shoo them away so that he could wallow in his self-pity alone, but he sat up and made room for Isaac on the couch as well. When Isaac had first met Derek, there had been no deeper layer exposed so easily. Isaac guessed that this new (and improved) Derek was partially thanks to Stiles.

“The closer we get to September the more I… I miss everyone. They haven’t even gone off to school yet and I can already feel them slipping away. It’s unbearable.” Derek sighed again and pulled the blanket tight over his broad shoulders.

Aria frowned. “You’re ridiculous.” She scoffed and he burrowed deeper into the couch. “Sorry, that was harsher than I’d intended.” She straightened herself out, smoothing over her composure and replacing her frown with a warm smile. “You should be cherishing your time with everyone, not sitting here moping about it." 

Derek closed his eyes and his jaw tensed. “I know that. They’re all busy tonight. Scott and Allison are out with their parents and Stiles, Jackson and Lydia are with Danny off on some double date that Lydia set up between Danny and some guy named Ethan, and Erica and Boyd are in for the night with Alicia.”

“I guess that just leaves the three of us! Good thing too,” Aria nodded at the half-empty carton of ice cream resting on the coffee table, “I don’t think Stiles would be too happy if you put on thirty pounds over night.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Whatever. He’d love me with or without lovehandles.”

Isaac made a gagging noise and Aria elbowed him in the side. Derek’s eyes narrowed. “If it makes you feel any better, you’ll have one less person to miss when September rolls around.” Aria said suddenly, and Isaac’s stomach clenched. Derek frowned, tilting his head to the side. No doubt he could hear the sudden jackhammering of Isaac’s heart.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked and Aria gave Isaac a brief, encouraging look before continuing.

“With your permission, I would like to formally request a membership to your pack.” Aria began, and before she could even get all the words out at once Derek was pulling her into a crushing hug. She laughed and buried her face in Derek’s shoulder, and Isaac couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading throughout his chest at the sight of her so happy.

“Of course, you didn’t even have to ask Aria. You’ll always be welcome here. We’re family.” Derek pulled away and grabbed her shoulders, giving her a serious look.

She smiled, her eyes downcast as she worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I know you and I are blood-related, but the bonds of pack reach beyond that. I just want to make sure the whole pack is okay with this.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “ _We’re family_. You and I, you and Erica and Boyd and Alicia. You and everyone in the pack.” He paused and tilted his head a little. “Are you sure this is something you want? What about the pack back in Toronto?" 

Aria was quiet for a moment. Isaac rested a comforting hand on the small of her back. “They disbanded. After Peter killed Ian everything fell apart. Up until this point… technically, I was Omega.”

Derek’s features pinched. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to think that I was only here to weasel my way into your pack.” She admitted and avoided meeting his gaze.

“Okay,” Derek nodded, “Never be that stupid again.”

Aria chuckled, shaking her head and smacking a hand to her forehead to hide her face. “I know, I know. But things happened. Unexpected things.” There was a heavy silence that lingered as Aria peered over her shoulder at Isaac. “I didn’t want to risk messing it up.”

Derek looked between the two of them for a long, silent moment. After he finished scrutinizing them he let out a snort and rolled his eyes. “I’m not blind. I know you two have been hooking up.”

Isaac let out an audible breath of surprise. “ _What_?"

“Are we that obvious?” Aria asked, and as she did she reached a hand behind her to thread her fingers through Isaac’s.

Derek shrugged. “Well, I didn’t know about it until Stiles told me, but now that I know it’s kind of hard _not_ to notice." 

Aria twisted in her seat until she could comfortably crawl into Isaac’s lap and curl her head under his chin. Isaac expected he had a discussion headed his way, if the nefarious look on Derek’s face was any indication it would be very long and very in-depth.

But for now there was only a settled silence. The three of them sat there watching television until their eyes got droopy. Derek quietly stood from the couch and fetched the remote to turn off the screen, and then disappeared into his bedroom. When he returned he carried a soft blanket in his hands, which he helped spread over Isaac and Aria.

Aria was fast asleep in his arms.

“Treat her well.” Derek spoke softly, but his gaze and words were heavy with meaning. Isaac nodded. He understood.

No one would ever harm Aria again. He would safeguard her the way he should have protected his mother. He wouldn’t lose her. He would spend the rest of his life loving her and making sure she was happy. 

He hadn’t known her for more than a couple months now, but she was… impossibly amazing. He loved her, and she loved him. Together they could fill all the little holes in their hearts with new memories.

Brighter ones.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

“Promise me you’ll call me every day,” Stiles held onto Erica’s shoulder tightly, “If Alicia even so much as _burps_ I want to know.” Derek chuckled from where he watched the scene, leaned up against Stiles’s jeep. “I expect at least a hundred videos of her doing cute, adorable things when I come back for Thanksgiving. Got it?”

Erica rolled her eyes, but she was smiling fondly. “Yeah, yeah, whatever Stiles. Get outta here already I’m sick of your face.” Even as she said this she pulled him into a warm hug. Stiles laughed.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you guys soon! Stay safe. Look after Derek for me, will ya? He needs to be fed three times a day, and he likes having his belly rubbed after every meal.” He winked at her and she pursed her lips.

“I spend eight hours of my day rubbing my baby’s back and burping her. I think Derek can manage to rub one out himself.” She turned on her heel and made her grand exit before Stiles could say another word. He shook his head and made his way towards his jeep.

Derek smirked. Saying goodbye to pack members was always hard, but at least Erica never lost her sass.

“Maybe you should stay,” Derek suggested with a shrug. He was trying to be as nonchalant as possible; it was an unrealistic notion, but he still didn’t want Stiles to leave. He didn’t want any of them leaving. But part of becoming a strong, healthy pack meant moving on and building a better future for themselves. He knew that. He just didn't like it.

Stiles chuckled, leisurely wrapping his arms around Derek’s waist and resting his head on Derek’s shoulder. “I can’t stay, I still have three years left before I even graduate.”

“We have money squared away you know,” Derek said quietly, “Enough that none of us would ever have to work.” There was about one hundred and seventeen million dollars in bearer bonds squirrelled away in a safe that only the Hale family pack had known about. Now it was just Derek and Aria who knew where it was and how to get to it.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Dude, it’s not about the money. It’s about learning and figuring out what I want to do with the rest of my life. I can’t just sit around all day with you. Cuddling. Kissing… Having sex… All day long… Okay, actually, yeah, fuck school.” Stiles began kissing Derek’s neck, and as much as that’s exactly what Derek had wanted to hear, he knew it was a bad idea.

He chuckled, kissing the top of Stiles’s head and pulling him into a tight hug. “Come on, if you’re late picking up Lydia and Jackson, Lydia will probably skin you alive.”

Stiles sighed and nodded, pressing one last kiss to Derek’s lips before hopping into the jeep. “Love you.” He said, and Derek smiled.

“Love you too.” Derek countered. He waited at the steps of the porch and watched Stiles leave. He knew this wasn’t the end to their story. Just _an_ end, and a beginning.

▫₰≈∙⌠▫▪▫⌡∙≈₰▫

There was a knock at the door.

“Dude! I already told you! I have to finish this essay! Can you please just, I don’t know, fuck off for a bit?” Stiles ground out, furiously typing as he ignored the next series of knocks.

He’d only been back in school for a couple of weeks and already he was regretting re-enrolling. He also desperately regretted ever agreeing to room with total strangers. This new one, _Paul_ , was a total asshole. Just would not let Stiles have two seconds of peace to study or do anything remotely productive.

Over the clacking of his laptop’s keys as he smashed his wrathful fingers upon them, he could hear his door slowly creaking open and softly clicking shut again. He hoped Paul had finally taken him seriously and decided to heed Stiles’s words.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of Stiles’s neck were standing on end, and without warning he was up and out of his chair wielding his laptop as a weapon against the new presence in the room.

Derek stood a few steps away, frozen midstride with his eyes glued to where Stiles held his laptop fiercely above his head. Stiles blinked. Derek smirked.

“Who exactly were you expecting?” He asked as he gingerly reached over and grabbed the laptop from Stiles before he could hurt himself. “And what were you going to do with this? Smash it and lose all of your school work?” Derek set it back down carefully on the desk, leaning into Stiles as he did.

Stiles’s brain wasn’t even working. He was frozen there without a word or thought in his brain. All he could do was stare at Derek and press into his warmth.

“I missed you.” Derek whispered, his breath hot against Stiles’s mouth. “I know it’s only been two weeks but I had to see you.” His voice was low and gravelly; his eyes were glowing a dim red that set Stiles’s entire body on edge.

Derek’s hand began to trace the back of Stiles’s arm, slowly gliding up towards his shoulder. “Derek,” Stiles breathed out quietly, “What are you doing here?”

Derek chuckled breathlessly, sliding his hand along Stiles’s shoulder under his chin then up to rest at his cheek. “I just told you. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” Stiles leaned in, pressing a breathless kiss against Derek’s mouth. His fingers grabbed at Derek’s collar, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss until his head was swimming. When he pulled away his eyes lingered on Derek’s lips; soft and sweet as they were tempting, they were also very distracting and Stiles hadn’t been lying about needing to finish his essay.

“Been thinking about you,” Derek murmured, kissing away what little resistance and cognizance that Stiles had started to recollect. “Thinking about what I was gonna do _to_ you, when I saw you.” Derek mouthed at Stiles’s neck just then, eliciting a low, filthy moan from him. Being away from Derek had desensitized his nerves; they were ridiculously raw now, sensitive to the point that one scrape of Derek’s teeth along his collarbone already had Stiles hard and throbbing through his pants.

“ _Fuck_.” Stiles hissed, physically having to hold himself back from rutting up against Derek’s thigh. “The essay’s due-,” He started, and was going to finish by saying _tomorrow_ , but Derek smothered the word with his lips. Apparently time for talking was over. 

Derek scooped Stiles up in his arms and carried him over to the bed. Meanwhile, Stiles laced his legs around Derek’s hips, and his arms around Derek’s shoulders.

Their mouths were interlocked; tongues tasting and teeth teasing. They’d become used to the way the other’s lips moved, and though it felt like an easy rhythm to fall into, it felt no less enthralling than the first time they kissed. Stiles’s heart was beating fervently and his skin felt like it was electrified with every gentle press of Derek’s fingertips.

Once they reached the end of the bed Derek lowered them down until Stiles’s back rested on it. Stiles used the momentum to pull Derek with him; their bodies flush against each other so that no space could encroach on their intimacy. Derek chuckled, shaking his head and delivering a swift kiss to Stiles’s lips before attempting to separate them.

Stiles relented, untangling his legs and arms from Derek and watching as Derek straightened himself out, taking a small step away from the bed. Before Stiles could protest Derek reached a hand down towards the bottom of his shirt, slowly dragging it up along his torso to where he slipped it over his head and discarded it on the floor.

If there was one thing Stiles was _never_ going to get used to, it was seeing Derek’s sculpted body and being able to touch it. The _only_ one allowed to. Knowing that made Stiles feel dizzy in a really good way.

Next, Derek unbuttoned his jeans and repeated the process of being painfully too slow as he slid them down his thighs. The moment Derek cleared the area, Stiles sat up on his knees and shuffled towards the edge of the bed. He reached over and palmed at the tent in Derek’s boxer-briefs, but was quickly swatted away for his efforts. 

Derek smirked at Stiles’s pout. “Patience.”

“Patience?” Stiles repeated, his voice low and edged with irritation. “ _I’m_ not the one who-,” Before he could finish his mini tirade Derek kicked off his jeans and made quick work of pulling Stiles’s sweatpants off with one swift tug. Next he grabbed Stiles’s boxers and tore them off. _Literally_. If Stiles hadn’t been so turned on he’d be pissed.

Those were his favourite pair of boxers.

But those were also his favourite pair of hands that had immediately started stroking his hard dick.

Stiles was mess of incoherent pleas for _more_ and moans of pure pleasure. He could already feel himself edging, but before he could Derek stopped jerking him off entirely and began rummaging through Stiles’s bedside table.

"What are you looking for?” Stiles asked, hoping that talking a little would clear his mind and keep him from reaching down and finishing himself off. 

“Where’s your lube?” Derek kept rummaging through the drawer. He reached the back of it and pulled out a bottle of lube, a quirk in his lips. Stiles rolled over on the bed, sticking his ass in the air and wiggling it around in an attempt to lure Derek back to the bed.

Derek let out a low, territorial growl and grabbed Stiles’s hips to still them. He popped open the bottle and slathered his fingers; as soon as Stiles looked over his shoulder, Derek slid a finger around his rim, pressing ever so slowly and lightly. Stiles tried to push back onto it, but Derek kept a firm hand on his hips to keep him as still as possible.

Stiles whined. “Why are you torturing me like this?”

Suddenly Derek flipped Stiles’s over onto his back and stared deep into his eyes for a long, silent moment. “I don’t like it when you leave.”

Stiles blinked. “ _Leave_? Like, come to school?” He asked and watched the way Derek’s eyes darkened.

He didn’t answer the question. Instead he worked his fingers into Stiles’s hole gently and precisely. It wasn’t long before he was pulling out and kicking off his underwear so he could slick up his dick. When he pressed inside of Stiles, Stiles shuddered. There was a moment of euphoria – not exactly an orgasm, but the tremors of pleasure that accompanied being completely connected with a mate were equally intense.

Derek kissed and nipped at Stiles’s neck until he bottomed out, and then after a few moments of hot breaths and shaky kisses, he started moving. At first it was slow and lazy; the focus mainly on savouring sweet kisses and the taste of each other’s skin. Derek’s hipbones knocked against Stiles’s clumsily, but the rhythm smoothed out as the pressure built, each slide a glide of two perfectly in-sync bodies.

Derek adjusted his thrust and managed to find the absolute perfect spot; Stiles keened and mewled, almost drunk off the high of pressure that was building at the base of his spine.

His fingernails dug into Derek shoulders and he moaned into Derek’s neck at the tightening and sparks of energy that reverberated throughout his entire body. Derek pulled away slightly to create enough space to slip his hand between them and stroked at Stiles’s dick.

Stiles hit his limit after three tugs, coming with a deep groan as the final wave of pleasure shook his entire body. He was vaguely aware of Derek’s similar reaction; Derek groaned and his thrusts became erratic as he was overwhelmed by his own climax.

At the end of it he collapsed onto the bed beside Stiles, pulling out when he was boneless and exhausted. Stiles turned on his side and rested his head against Derek’s shoulder, closing his eyes in submission to the sleepiness.

Derek kissed at Stiles’s neck, sucking love marks into his sensitive skin, but Stiles was too tired to fend him off.

“I don’t think I can stay away from you.” Derek admitted, his fingers tracing invisible patterns that Stiles’s skin would burn into its memory. “I don’t care how far I have to drive to get here. To you. I love you.”

Stiles smiled and peeked up at Derek. “I love you too.”

No matter how far apart they were, no matter how long they missed each other, they would always have this. These moments that seemed endless, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Derek was a part of Stiles just as much as Stiles was a part of Derek. Distance and time, no matter the greatness of it, would never overshadow the greatness of their love for each other. 

Distance and time couldn’t erase these moments, carved out of eternity just for them to share. And they still had a lifetime to make more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One final thanks to everyone! You're all amazing! Since you guys have been so great I want to hear your feedback! Even with this last big chapter I actually didn't get the chance to write some of the scenes that I would have liked to. If there's anything in this universe you wish I'd written but didn't, let me know in the comments! I'm more than willing to expand this into a series for you guys :) Don't be shy!!


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